shears of tarred glass raining gilbert godfrey plays the trumpet on TV light flashes past my eye humble pie like grandma used to bake conscious trees sigh at the night sky loving dogs roam the hills, starving. An ancient dried up lake wanting to drink today, yesterday, tommorow forever gone, gone wild, gone buck wild waving goodbye beneath us
Sounds like some depressed person turned on the TV and saw Gilbert Godfrey, and that was the last straw, and they took their own life. As they lay dieing, they reflected about the sights and sounds around their house, out in the country. I pick "The Last Straw" as a title.
