Now that the sun has burnt out
And the stars lay ****** at my feet
What now is to be done about the consequence of us
As we stand at the thresh hold of marriage
With death at the door
How will we thrive when we are gone
While the trees taunt us with their strong roots
We are swept up by fools
As we burn and rip and tear and leave little for any compassion
Let it burn
The trees will grow
We will not