Recently,
i've noticed the way the sky dips itself into the trees at sundown
and the way the blue fades in with the anthracite so neatly
but so messily at the same time
and the way the backdrop refuses to be the same every day
because the clouds are always placed in different shapes
unlike the outlook of society
and the orange is then born, like magic as it blankets the earth
born out of red but there's always a bit of mustard to help
not pure blood, have some cheese
but then there's also those splashes of pinky-purple paint
or could it be squash, to help wash down the edam
foods that the popular despise
and it reflects so beautifully against the metallic of life
adding some colour to the regular plastic routine
that i admit to following
but that doesn't mean i don't conspire or want or fantasise or plan
about being the sky at sunset and succeeding, just more humane
i'm just much too cowardly to change
not only at sundown, at the day's end, but at sunrise, the wholly beginning
the sky has a fresh start everyday, a new meaning, a new reason
but i have none now
so, please, whoever controls me, whether it be me or a further omni-
allow to transform and become the early morning sky, or go to sleep and turn into that of the night
because no longer can i sit and watch the stunning backdrops
whilst so many people are falling further

I can't take it anymore.
Body pounding, heart stopping, this frozen fire unwinding.
And I'm feeling faint.
As the world's a-turnin' and I'm lying here burnin'.
'Cause no one knows,
and no one feels
and no one listens
anymore.
I can't take it anymore.