Autumn

Like fevered winds of tempests, untempered
Like madness in the skins of a species unremembered
Like tremors through the earth and violence through the birth
To silence we revert

In due time
We know not why
All is due to die
Let there be room for life

Try as we might and must
No solution lies in life for us
We're destined for death and dust
And we're seeing signs of rust

There's a reason they call this decadence
This decay is not our providence
Here, now ends our dominance
Our end, our only immanence