the days are drying away, it seems they're all the same. plagued complacency sending yellow bolts of light in my head. turn on the sprinkler, and lets get a little wet, before the drought that comes carrying with it waves of death. carrying on with the carrion of my mother, with the lost ashes of my father. Drying out with the desert before grim calls my name. to meet my mother and father in the sand, when bone shakes bone, we'll smile and say hello to one another in a language that only the wind knows.