Mourning - The Spectacle

As we continue to drive on

to pile on and pile on

there are miles of wasteland behind us

and we are going around

one day its going to catch up

a machine with no breaks on

green grass will be long gone

a few angry screams can’t be heard, can’t hear a word

through the noise louder and louder and luder

as the grass no longer makes it through

we keep piling on

iron teeth sink into soil

and the clouds are now black smoke

are you content with the world?

as you choke

some have been crying for centuries

while others collected the salt

some just shrug their sholders

and pave the earth with asphalt

the end of this road is soon to come

no saviour or a chosen one

all leaves are turning brown

but this is not autumn, this is fall

when you family is burning

when your world is turning

don’t look at me

I told you so