The new proverb should be: "It doesn't concern me" as everything goes to hell in a basket without any help from any us, pushing it faster or stopping its falling...

Rolling down horizons, never stopping
to go on falling at the end of the world
where silence cuts like a sharpened knife
and wrapped in barbed-wire are the words.

Time has dried up all the rivers beds,
because there are no more farms or corn,
the attending hands are so far away, digging,
trying to survive, the last of their fox-hole.

Afraid for the last of the melting ices today,
but nobody was ten thousand years ago,
when praying for the sun to be forever kind
making more habitable their frozen world.

Man isn’t so special, just another little one
of the creatures from the Will of a Mighty God,
creatures that never took care of a given Paradise
and now are asking understanding from their Lord.

Yes, all of you are praying, but doing it…
with wrapped in barbed-wire so many words.