The Sky that Falls by Deniz Besim - HTML preview

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Experiments

 

Today I would look down on the masses,

Scientists explore the noble gasses,

I would look beyond the fields of grasses,

Making sure they do not perform farces,

Only the most honest of them passes,

As intellects perform in their glasses.

 

I scratch my head and push up my glasses,

An experiment to show the masses,

I hope this impresses, hope this passes,

As I fuse a couple of these gasses,

Overcome by odours, smells like grasses,

It shouldn't go wrong or there'll be farces.

 

The autumn and summer's smell of grasses,

I look upon through the window glasses,

Too much fusion and there will be farces,

Invisible, unseen to the masses,

A fusion of these noble gasses.

Too much of it and none of that passes.

 

An explosion is not what thus passes,

When I mix up the odours of grasses.

Electrically fusing up these gasses,

Bombs releasing shards of window glasses,

The explosion unseen to the masses,

Causing mass distress and lots of farces.

 

An explosion causes lots of farces,

To the people that isn't what passes,

Through the eyes of the world and the masses,

When mixing up the odours of grasses,

Unseen to the eyes even with glasses,

The fusion of the dangerous gasses.

 

Lots of trouble when twining the gasses,

A whole wide world of distress and farces,

Mixing up shards of broken glasses,

Invisible fumes no longer passes,

Nor the sightless sound of smelly grasses,

More trouble than assumed by the masses.

 

The gasses are unseen to our masses,

When causing people farces with grasses,

Who wear glasses, behaviour's what passes.