When the wind picked up the fire spread

And the grapevines seemed left for dead.

And the northern sky, like the end of day,

The end of days.

A wake up call to a rented room

Sounded like an alarm of impending doom.

To warn us it's only a matter of time.

Before we all burn

aww sappy sad babbu cicero.

he's always my sadness vent cause he just makes it so easy angssssst.