a hurting world,
as we try to build upon burning cities.
no one will accept that we are heading,
the end of the line.
we all sit, sipping drinks of exctasy,
in houses with no roofs,
and no doors.
as the blacknes of fate consumes,
the very air we breath,
and when the world is made visible in our site,
we pull out our blinds and cover our eyes.