His masterpiece is rubbish and he pretends to smoke at a bus station,
In the distance a child converses with the last trace elements of his relation,
For the duration of our time, a wild fire will erupt sweeping all in its path,
Without restraint for human emancipation, at the tip of the fire is degredation.
Another part of town, a trio of salesman look around a gram of Dynamite, pondering,
A lady at home stares coldly into the wall trying to stop her mind wandering,
As a man near t