There are noises I'd rather not listen, the odes of everlasting death
Were humans sleep so instantly, and Gaia pains with each breath?
They wither and suffer, as though time has released
A pitying, smothering curse
That creeps up the Dryad, with claws like a beast
And sells off its parts, for new worth
So how do we compare, the demise of Mother Nature
To the hex of Hades great scythe
Would you rather be the killer, in memory of the pasture?
Or feel the instant ending of your life