Blue sky, blue feelings, blue-blooded skeletons
When will the heavens crumble down on the weaklings?
God has got to have a vendetta against His creations
The moon slowly creeps away from the earth’s roof
Its clouds leave no room for the feathered to fly
They are carefully hiding in the sound of the wind
As mountains close in on each other,
And the blues in our hearts haltingly consume us
We watch as thunder growls in fury
The cosmos opens its void prepared to swallow
Are the tribes of humans ready to flap their wings up to the skies?
The macrocosm has finally shown its true colors
