The sound of dripping water was never whispered among them
Watch the water spin brown, yeah its camouflage!
Now it stops flowing and the diseases worm their waves in like a spider's web. Bang
I sow the seed and not a day since then have I not wished it well, wished it to grow a giant tree
But mama's growing week
Her eyes begin to slur
Her mouth not able to utter a syllable
I sit above papa's grave, his last breathe gone
I shake mama, only for her to grip me even tighter
We need to eat, we need to drink, somebody hear my swollen cries
Slowly her hands slip from mine
I kiss her forehead, but its gone cold
I go back to see my tress. The leaves turned brown. Dead
I lay down, close my eyes tight
Wishing it not real, I bite awake and see myself gasping my last breathe
It was never camouflage, black or white
It was reality
