Cuba Tm

I want to figure out
What the future is about
Are we going to stay the same,
Or will we change our shape?

Because of acid-rain,
Because of too high gain,
Cast our skins,
Covered by a thin membrane...?

To let the sound come in,
To let the bowels spin,
To let love come in...?

And we could use the sloughed skin as raincoats...
As saturn bursts through the sky
Our arms would spin like windmills
Our bodies refuse to fly...