Upon the rising of the flaming sun,
glowing and blowing, spinning 'round a hole.
And around this giant ball of pure flame?
A little blue one with a tad of green.
Let us zoom closer to this little ball,
little critters move around and cover all.
They thrive, chitter, think of life as a game.
Now let us move away, into the forrest,
where a lonely man stands straight and tall.
He watched the sun, down on earth, consuming
and burning, and in its path? Nothing.
As the man watches what use to be warmth,
a silver tear falls from his once clear eye.
Do you cry? You may have lit the flame.
glowing and blowing, spinning 'round a hole.
And around this giant ball of pure flame?
A little blue one with a tad of green.
Let us zoom closer to this little ball,
little critters move around and cover all.
They thrive, chitter, think of life as a game.
Now let us move away, into the forrest,
where a lonely man stands straight and tall.
He watched the sun, down on earth, consuming
and burning, and in its path? Nothing.
As the man watches what use to be warmth,
a silver tear falls from his once clear eye.
Do you cry? You may have lit the flame.
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