Summer drones, in a black veil,
and the sick trees, are all dry.
Casting death shadows.
Too late for a cure.
Standing there with folded arms,
as the fire burns inside,
with blood and desire,
ashes of grey and blue.
We must love and die.
The never ending end.
Deaf, dumb and blind.
The international wrong.
Waiting for destruction,
with rains and floods,
cold wicked souls,
raving in delusion.
and the sick trees, are all dry.
Casting death shadows.
Too late for a cure.
Standing there with folded arms,
as the fire burns inside,
with blood and desire,
ashes of grey and blue.
We must love and die.
The never ending end.
Deaf, dumb and blind.
The international wrong.
Waiting for destruction,
with rains and floods,
cold wicked souls,
raving in delusion.