the charred landscape gently weeps the tears of a thousand grieing wives and mothers, with blood red skies, the acid rain will fall, wash away all of our sins, just as the fire burned away the budding dreams of our youth. our hope will die tonight. with a power struggle, the sound of the titans clashing might awaken us to the brutal reality that hides in every darkened corner and permiates all. the truth is that all of us are leading lives that end before they begin. our hope will die tonight. spiraling toward the ground below, like early autumn leaves, into a graveyard of silence and opression. in cartwheeling balls of flame, our hope will die tonight. a piece i wrote about crap goin on right about now, war and stuff.