Words words words
On the walls walls walls
Accompany footsteps in the halls
As I stare out the window,
Down at the street,
Filled with cars cars cars
And feet feet feet
All these people,
Passing by,
And I noticed not one
Stole a glance at the sky,
I could not tell you why

The masses looked not
At the gray dying sky
Filled with distraughtful thought
By and by, the people passed by,
And yet not one
Chanced a look at the sky

Perhaps the sky’s falling,
And fearful are we,
To look up at it and see

Or perhaps for granted
We take,
The air that was once
Of the bluest make

Or perhaps, perhaps—
And this is my fear—
That perhaps we have forgotten to care,
About things we assume will always be there.