Sunset on a dying sky,
black and green from all the dye.
Smoky mirrors leave me gasping for air,
but none of the governments care.

Haven't seen the sunlight in a while,
fresh air bottles are now the new style.
Posion winds blow to me something ill,
pollution is eating through my will.

Heaven's are burning with the stench,
fires can't be put out in a pinch.
See all the soot and ash in shy,
answer your childrens cries when they ask: why?

08/17/2004

Posted on 08/17/2004
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