A Twentieth Century Rebellution

A thousand people marching under the bright sun. Proudly holding cardboard signs they made in technicolor. Would someone tell them. Please guide them where to go.

A hundred people marching under the heavy sun. Sweat blood faces hopelessly drag on, wearing brittle and thin. Would someone ask them. Where are they going with those signs?

A dozen or so, zombies under the stars. Wondering when to walk the miles back home. Couldn't have done it better myself. Where were they going? What every happened to all those signs?