My hazy sky is crazy
gone and blowing with the wind
to the valley and beyond
the cities burried deep in worries
and people masked their faces.
Forest burning in Rage
smoke filled the sky
cities cry for air
a little space for breadth
to keep on loving.
If our trees are green
our sky are blue
and the rivers are crystal clear
the smiles will live a thousand miles.
But smoke are for money
people in high places
masked their faces
not for anger
but greed for the jungle.
miri.
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