When will people realise?
The soil and country they love is dead, unliving.
The stars are deaf.
And the Sun never resembled hope.
The Moon is lifeless.
And the birds don't care.
That the poets were too hopeful yet helpless.
That all the verses ever written were lies; hyperbolical and metaphorical.

That all we have is you and me.
That it's us and us alone.
That we are sailing in the...