Bumble bee fly so high,

Let the world lift you on its icey shoulders

Have them know that you don’t die

And upon remission, return to your glass hive.

Fly out of your home

Explore the extent of this nation

Find a flower on perch 

to reach your salvation

But whatever you do

Small and innocent bumblebee

Do not enter the fray

The fraying surface

Where every insect is to suffer

Where peace and solitude is found upon the corpses of others

She watches you deteriorate, she feeds on it

Mother nature doesn’t care for you down here.

Down here were survive

We trump over the weak

We tend to only ourselves

And yet we still find time to adhere to her words

But down here there is no living

There is no flower on a perch

There is no isolation

Just brute noise

We will use creeds of hopefulness

We will write texts of tale

We will remind out children of a brighter tomorrow

We will paint them a content world on a glass hive