' 'Pollution' 'Society' 'spiritual' 'magnum opus' 'human'
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Snowfall. Dawn.
Today’s a new day; I woke up under a tree.
I did not see it before, was used to being in cages
For the one in my company, I have nothing to bring,
The word "misnomer" trails my path,
As I spread my bare arms infront their eyes.
The gaudy colours shout out unsophistication
The avaricious dresses berating those succulent curves
Our perception is edited to a settin'
In which the cause of the sun ascendin'
Is due to the hour
What produces resources to use, consume, then reproduce
