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