143 - An Environmental Poem

White doves over fields of burning crosses

Make their run through rows of blood red roses

Blue is the moon who filled these empty hours

With shades of grey upon acid showers

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Troubled is the night reaching for the day

Between the weeks before the month of May

When in one's soul exists an envy of green

Mercury rise to taint the seas once clean

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In light of doubts that faith can move mountains

Darkness dwells in dreams of dried-up fountains

Where we hear the wild wind whisper and sigh

Preaching repentance for the end is nigh