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? |