As I died here living

[thyis1]

For the fall had come to early,
and his step, quickend by the noon sun,
Had led him, down this crooked path,
Wandering away the afternoon,
Laughing loudly to himself.

The great machines,
Flown through the sky
with ease, they would,
In fault, start new wounds.

Light peeps through the shade,
Closed tightly against the world.
TV wakes and keeps up;
There is an end coming.

The buildings fall, and for
A brief moment, the Machine
Suts down. In this instant
A bird could be heard
on the stock floor.