The days were cold, the nights were hot,

And then this ole’, the days, a plot.

There was the old, there was the rot,

But peoples’ soul was mean and sot?

The angel mothers wait in peace

To see when brother’s heart, not seen.

But brother’s n, it’s pointings cease

These times, these points, a guillotine.

You drink when you’re alone and then

You think that, then, you’re otherwise.

You care you feel their souls but when

A hole, your keel through life, it lies.

But I remember, days gone bye,

The day, December, lied your date. 

You cared if others felt your cry,

So now the mothers watched in wait. 

They wait to see if they’ll defang.

They hate to be the ones who hang.

They’ve seen the ends to lives are sins.

They’ve been to times where mends, have beens.

The earth, its bins, it lies in trite.

This girth, its skins, it has its plight.

For days, they tame, and times get cold,

The same, one hundred thousand, old.

Subsurface blame, it starts its growth,

One hundred thousand years in oath.

For then we see our truest life

Regardless, be this 'knowing' strife.