You choose your fate
Hurry up magnets of old
If we could save the sea life could start again without the hollow men
As evenings fade and follow trees it touches us with history
A land of wastes
A land without solutions
Weakened by the mad
Forced to eat illusions
Losing patience
Final bits of tasty tidy bits working the traces
Working all the darker corner's obsessions
Beckoned to follow the waste
Kind of Cain
Kind of fool's gate