Fin

mother earth crawls with parasites sucking her dry 'they don't know any better' last straw too much get out- but it's cold- don't forget your sweater. about time, we're getting old (our wings withered, we wept our souls out, into the sky) too late to learn how to fly how to die with style- just a little while, we'll stand & form a single file, sudden flicked domino effect, one two three go-