The pasture lays abandoned The barn is bare The fields grown overripe Fences lay fallen Roads returning to dirt Not a single tool lifted Nor a single human whimper Nay a cry from any creature Had been heard for many eons And one may wonder Of the perished and of paradise For Earth lay singing While all else is silent And some long for music And some long for quiet And all long for something And some long without knowing And some long for things long gone And some long just to go along with others longing And some are just so winded from being long winded in longing So longings lengthen, Filling us to the brim with hollow wants And this perfect paradox becomes Pandemic
and asked why it shines on a ******* sinner like me. So he replied, he shines on all, the good, the bad, and the **** of the earth. Also the guy that lies around and wastes away in an endless sea of *****. He says he shines on all.
Then I thought I guess his just another hippie, with his embrace everybody *******. But who am I to decide what he should do? Who am I?