Time marches on Angels fall is not big, but a trickle descending the mountainside like an old man ******* and the lump of ice in the sun's core is getting bigger.
The sun is the enemy sending rays of frost and make statues of frozen cats, we have to tan our faces in moonlight and twinkling stars in a night of silver light.
A tap on the door the man with scythe is a gardener but don't get fooled it is you he wants, not the lawn; his eyes burn bright hypnotising you.
Yes, the time marches on when the forest in Brazil has been burnt to the cinder to give space for hamburger cattle which will soon die of thirst as rivers run dry.
When the Seine is a motorway -toll both at both ends- and Holland is under water, in Amsterdam swim glad dolphins and the Dutch have invaded Norway.
Then perhaps, it's time to agree with the doomsday people.