Green Fields

Did you feel it, the thread begin to fray?

Tangible artifacts of weather and decay

An ending prophesied by rising of the seas

Then punctuated with attrition and disease

How does it feel to do or die?

Is there contrition hiding in your eyes?

To separate, to rectify

To know the consequence, yet fail to even try

There's no more sustenance in those green fields

We're all gonna burn until we diе

Dust raining down from ashes

The cost of progress figurеd steeper than we planned

Took words of vigilance, dismissed them out of hand

We're left colliding in this drought of our design

Determined, ably to foster and align

Our path to blame to ascertain

Drifting ever closer to that final flame

Assign us all a certain fate

A realization arriving much too late

There's no more sustenance in those green fields

We're all gonna burn until we die

Dust raining down from ashes

Agenda classified like a world left dead inside

No positions occupied by predictions of the end

So wound up chasing culture

Destroyed ourselves instead