The winds blow, the rains fall down, the true storm and drought are easy to find
It is the heart of man, is in the institutions of humanity, of our loss of innocence
The bestial violence of our kind, lead to extinction, we'll have need of a disguise
Our beings lost in the haze, the black smoke of the burning cities of our culture
A world burns with the fuel provided by us, we've nothing inside but lies
“On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening” BashÅ
