Future Song - Bang

Flowing softly pinkish foam

Clinging mass of swirling waste

Eyes behold a sight of gloom

Churning flesh come sliding home

Bees and Birds their wings grown old

Their speed has gone their legs deformed

Tiny thoughts that never grew

Are lost among the wetless dew

Smoking rafts are floating high

Reveal the deeds of days gone by

Earth’s own shroud now looks of gray

It’s seas and trees have turned to hay

Echo’s greet the ones who yell

Warring tribes now own the world

Science learning a search for truth

Have slid beneath the roaming puke

Man was great he touched the stars

Now he breeds in rusty cars

Where once stood cities spiraling high

Now hangs death a poisoned sky