Pollution And Metal Birds Comments

These fields aren't as large as they once were, aren't as green as pastures new, aren't as tranquil with these giants leaning over shadowing the sun,
The dirts moisture now brittle and dry. I remember the days when me, my brother and my old dog Sammy would wander this land collecting frogs in
The pockets of my old denims hand me downs from my brother
We were filthy children muck clad to our eyeballs to our toes
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