no lord no we’re not choking out / the air
it just strangles a bit / this asphyxiation
smoke from above the far north border
rolls rolls rolls / last night’s waxing gibbous moon
shone through / later maybe tomorrow later
there will be rain from ash-salted clouds
and we will hope it will clean us / maybe redeem us
and we will hope this will be the last
we will have to erotisize extinction