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, d**h 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.