The angry can thrown to the ground,
Lies so lonely in the leaves,
Refrains from making the slightest sound,
Simply watching the passing thieves.
So corrupt, the world above it,
Plotting the end of time.
Digging deep into the pit,
To be buried in their crime.
With no means in which to act,
A limbless voiceless being.
Vows to make a pact,
A promise not worth fleeing.
Not even worth dime,
A penny or a nickel.
Among the filth the grime,
The Raindrops begin to trickle.
From an open sky it comes to start,
The beginning to the end.
Life's too strong for the weak of heart,
It makes fools that will not bend.