the sky— the sky is brilliant tonight.
it calls down to the earth below, “sit tight,
someday we will all be together as one
in the desperate cry of light.”
the trees— the trees are as alive as my breath,
my breath is the sound of the angel of death,
he twists and he turns and he cries to the night,
“i feel as lost as the poor man’s wealth.”
the air— the air is struggling to breathe,
as the chest of the masses heave and they heave,
trying their best to inhale in their life,
but we forcibly push them to leave.
if we do not act and we do not try,
there will be a need for not just one goodbye
we will lose what we’ve won and we’ll confuse what we’ve lost
under the brilliant ruse of the sky.
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