Has not died,
the oldest tree to have been living,
now has become a part of our hearts,
Under the sun is hotter than it,
Look around you, sounds everywhere,
Earth is busy like ants, never slow,
moving swiftly in crossed roads,
like the streets of newyork city,
Since this is the produce of Earth, thorns, 'tis better not to be born,
For the creatures of earth damage it's own,
Earth tears the beauty of a woman,
clears the sounds of innocent souls,
wickedness flies with the air,
dropping on related souls,
folks be selling souls more
it's either money or zilch,
all eyes looking red,
like fiery lions,
we be eating each other in the night,
The walls are falling as
mountains bow down,
the rivers over filling as
bridges falling down
1% of earth breaths goodness
the sky stilll remains blue inasmuch as
mankind haven't dyed it up,
otherwise it would be black
how the servant tries to be above the master, it's man building robots,
but none can give a soul, nor life.
Earth so itchy, spiced up so chilly
out tears raining on us so icy
the grounds cry out loud
" repent, repent, repent"
the trees advertising,
" Jesus is coming"




© ©MT-Penda