Angry With The Sun

Eleven thousand degrees burning on our heads. Can you take the heat or do
you clench your fist to the sky? Where to run when the rays destroy and
where to run when the wells are dry? We are only satisfied when the rain is
pouring. We can only sleep when the moist is nourishing. The sun has spoiled
our land, turned the wine to vinegar. The roots are rotting and the leafs
are falling. Artificial culture saved our land, force-fed by human hands.
Exhausting forces cannot resist the ongoing destruction of the planet.
Drained illusions, endangered species, the screams never reach the surface.
God cries divine tears, wheeping from these human fears. The water is
finally pouring down, the solution in which we all drown. No more land to
waste, no more tears to choke. An iccold breath meant the planet's death. In
the end, we're running naked to the frost