Blurrred, the street lights go by Blurred, the passer bys fall behind We're on the highway now I'd bet he's doing at least a 100 The winds thumping outside my ears Dnd Dnd Dnd like heavy bass guitars pulsing in my head The wind chill freezing me right down to the bones Then i look up The sky sits there in a dark purple loom The clouds threaten rain cottoning out at the edges giving way to a lighter hue of purple sky The moon's one fourth the kind you see laughing at you in fairy tales only this one isn't smiling its laughing mocking me mocking the fact that i dare to hope Looking up then i realised No matter how fast you go No matter how you go No matter where you go No matter how many fires are lit behind your arse You don't change somethings Purple skies are one of them "Its cold", he yells out to me "Fuck yeah" i shout back the spittle from my mouth falling back into my own face Serving as my ironical reward for even thinking i could change the purple sky Even hoping that i could change it No but that wouldn't be entierely true either billions of years worth of effort millions of lives spent endless nights of thinking inveting new ways of spewing gases in the atmosphere that would easily kill you and me both without remorse of throwing gases in the air that singes the inner lining of our respiratory systems every day without our concious knowledge killing us slowly without our pain "Hey the sky shouldn't be purple right" i yell out "Should be dark blue" he replies "Fucking pollution" i yell over the howl of the cold wind. But the question still lingers in my head If the fires gave already begun to engulf the skies And you have also begun to burn Is hope really necessary?