In the dawn of dark skies, a painting of mist spread amongst the air, colored leaves die and then abandon their origin. Flowerless aroma and roots with no chance, earth wisked away by winds of ignorance. A portrait of blindness we all possess, and then the all important clock begins to laugh in all our faces. In the past, not a thought to the future on a sphere that`s four billion years old, the sun will burn everything and then it`ll go cold, we the people will burn to the bone, death ridden corpse will now mark our home. Boiled seas will abandon shores. Think where we`ll be if we don`t try to act, the world will go back to it`s origin.
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