The New World

When the Sun Settles Into the Horizon We Remember Our Rivers.

Mountains Choked With Smoke, Release the Trees Down Their Hillsides.

Sparrows Circle the Distance From the Gallows to the Sun.

Our Sorrow's Pile Up in the Night's Lament.

As the Lights Fissure the Night Skies, Our Eyes Grow Pale at the Horrors Beheld.

The New World.