Dry

A time of madness, a time of fear, a time of destruction of joy and tears. Rip your heart out plant it in the soil, remove your soul, sell it to the king, the lights go out, happiness stings. Close your eyes, hear the angels sing. It's a new begginning and an old, repetitious ending, you know what's going to happen, you have no idea what's coming. Toxic wast in the air, every breath you take it builds in your lungs. You don't want it, but you're gonna have to take it. Peter accepted this promise, he looked around and saw no one, there were voices in the air. "I need a drink.." He poured a tall glass of cold milk, and chugged it down. He let out a loud belch, it quenched his dry throat.