They dance unaware. From stout fathers and mothers, all are born to fly free and fall. Sweet smells and earthy graves, they rot to return. Each and every one will be received and used without waste. No soul to speak of, no thought to burden them down. With simplicity and sincere purpose, these multi-colored, sweet children shall be made and destroyed as the seasons pass.
Brought to you from the loudest godamn bar ever.
