The distant thunder of over exposed water comes crashing to a halt
but then manic struggles,and then rapid swirls the weak wont survive
debris of broken exhausted expressions,carcasses dead,not there fault
but the strong gather haste the journey just begun the ending of there life's
like a race of time but not really knowing where there going
instinct calls them,like ancestors genes pulling them close to the end
thousands and thousands swimming up stream,but still instinctively knowing
passing great exposures alone in there minds,no one to call friend
birds gather in flocks circling above,for a change to much choice
swooping down eyes closed,head first always catching there fill
"pull it in lads"the trawler man has seen his chance,but they cant hear his voice
the net pulls in with overpowered speed ready to fetch the kill
most now gone,again now only the lucky manage for another day
but how they don't look back,forward like a cry from a general on a battle ground
narrowing streams rocks all heading upward,the path seems over crowded in a way
once again frantic distant crashing,big paws of hooks and brown
jumping up over rocks exhausted, reaching for there final goal
the end so close,for what a journey they do expose to find a mate
once that used to be a huge influx of living things,is now a tiny shawl
they die exhausted,but they now will have young,like us we are all just a living bait........
