A melancholy sky with a mute breeze knocking down pine

Needles drape over the soil creating a muffled bed

Room for cones and debris to crash out of the sky into the territory known as home

Sickening sirens shatter the serene bliss

Full on assault of the not so quite neighborhood with American themed lights waving across the screen

Doors slam in pursuit of a car with six

Packed to the brim with anxious faces searching for freedom

Rings from the house alarm turn me around robbing me of amnesty

Checking the table for what my brother has to show

And he tells me that he has saved some lives

Stocking in our palace the source of the external anguish.