With the road on one side
And the train tracks on the other,
This timeless dance
Of slowly falling water
Is captured by the works of Man.
Until the skies open
And the deluge falls
And lays to ruin all we’ve done,
Like Tinker toys and Lincoln logs.
Who will look on us
From the other side
And judge us by our works?
Who will weep,
And who will say
We had it coming?
No comments:
Post a Comment