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 Earths own shroud now looks of gray Its seas and trees have turned to hay Echos 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
wetless, pinkish, warring, slid, spiraling