something's just not right
as I watch the blackest crows take flight
pronouncing another
dead trees serve as their runways
I watch them run away
they're busier than me you know
dehydrated trees
whispering in response to the gentle breeze
letting go, burying their
dead leaves raining down
decomposed, soaked up by the ground
emulating what they crave so
when fall comes in july
one by one I watch them die
a flame is extinguished before it ignites
I see it in the leaves
but I feel it in the air that we breathe
abandoned dreams, left out in the
sunlight braking through
it's beautiful, but it'll kill you
we need a certain balance to survive
In a state of drought we all start to doubt
our true colors
in a state of doubt we forget all about
our true colors
no red, orange, or yellow
no our true colors don't show
anymore
extinguished before we ignite

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