Mornings greet by

Darkness

Broken by the blind

Chorus

Of the world

Birds they do compete

With the spoken

Word of mans

Motions

As he breaks from

His slumber

Pouring out of hidden

Places in such

Masses of number

Like the ants

Crawling out their

Hills

Man spills out into the

World

Sadly causing ill

Not to tend to mothers

Needs

And cleanse her ailing

Heart

But to dig deeper

Into her soul

And continue to tear apart

All that she is for her

Riches he cannot resist

How tragic a story that

We have turned and devoured

That which gave us

Life