Poem...Blindfolds
We rush toward extinction
Blindfolds in place
Doing what they tell us
Build a new place
The money is flowing
Green creek is rising
No need to worry
Nor accept chastising
What is that sound
It could be a bird
But they are gone now
Never to be heard
Oh well gotta go
More spending to do
More things to buy
Before extinctions ensue
No comments:
Post a Comment