Fly (ALT title: Voice of the Voiceless)

Whatcha gonna do when the grid goes down?

Sadness permeates my mind
Like an old semi-truck
With golden grills
Half hanging
Off of old rusted bumpers

Tendrils of ancient thoughts
Hanging all around
Like the wispy branches of willow trees.
Hiding the true strength and character
Behind it's thick, strong trunk
Deep roots
Hidden behind a fuzzy curtain
A million tiny leaves
Hanging on slender branches

Trust is like a demonic angel
Always smiling through the pain of reality
And faith is like a fading shadow
In the sunset of our lives

Time is almost up
What are you going to do
When the end arrives
And all you have
Is a pile of worthless plastic under your feet?