Daylight!

The shallow cold is a harbinger,
For the past is coming alive,
Of twenty thousand years ago,
With no place of warmth,
And no place to hide,
There, throughout the four corners of the world,
We shall run as nomads,
Collecting our share through these junipers,
And as these white filaments begin to fall,
In short due Decembers,
Humanity shall live in obscurity,
With insanity carving our paths,
Our deepest cries shall be smudged,
As they travel this air, burning our ozones,
Layer after layer,
Leaving us voiceless in the end,
With our every echo roaming away,
Just like an antique collection of cars,
Hiding behind our verandas,
Waiting for corrupt souls to lead us into daylight...