Pale blue sky, cold wind sings of sadness
are you coming to help out?
Not until it's cleared, I want less control.
Later, a hot pan of spicy onion, egg and juice.

bring on the rot, threats of a dastardly runner
the cold comes and the walls bleed mercy
you're all users of one or other thing
quip for all eternity
how we let one corpse bring down the living
one block and it is a nice, vengeful filter
in your face.

tired tired tired
of games, in the end
apart, we both lose.