The coulours are gone, the soil is growing, the rain is cold and the time around is dark.
The conture of everything is coming to rule, the green is gone.
The heavy heaven is around for ages, the garden sleeping and the end is near.
The animal is sleeping but still, running around.
Wondering where did it all go.
Why did it all end?
Whats wrong? The feeling is wrong, its sad but true.
Why are we dying?
Why are we lying?
to our self.
The trees sleep.