| No one wants to eat pudding mixed up with thumbtacks, and yet we taint our air, spewing waste with smokestacks.
No one wants to swim in a pool clouded with piss. Why treat our lungs like this? |
"The poem is the cry of its occasion"
| No one wants to eat pudding mixed up with thumbtacks, and yet we taint our air, spewing waste with smokestacks.
No one wants to swim in a pool clouded with piss. Why treat our lungs like this? |