In the dawn of dark skies, painting of mist spread amongst the air, colored leaves die and then abandon their origin, flowerless aroma and roots with no chance, earth wisked away by winds of ignorance, a portrait of blindness we all possess, and then the all important clock begins to laugh in all our faces. In the past not a thought to the future on a sphere thats four billion years old, the sun will burn everything and then it'l go cold, we the people will burn to the bone, death ridden corpes will now mark our home, boiled seas will abandon shores, think where we'll be if we don't try to act, our world will go back to it's origin.