Compression is an alibi;
Dense earth puddling
And flowers suffering
For there is no space to grow
Until Worm makes its way
Casting its gold
Into trueness of soil
With no damage plan
Becoming the end of the road.
Compression is an alibi;
Dense earth puddling
And flowers suffering
For there is no space to grow
Until Worm makes its way
Casting its gold
Into trueness of soil
With no damage plan
Becoming the end of the road.