Rumbling felt by beasts and machines,
From hundreds of miles away,
Mother nature’s wrinkle,
Still the beach ball gaily bounces,
Faint tremors bring momentary concern,
Familiarity brings cursed comfort,
The beasts and machines brace,
Still the beach ball gaily bounces,
Swelling, climbing the fissures spit,
Mindless and relentless no intent or target,
Secure feelings prolong the alarm,
Still the beach ball gaily bounces,
The mountain now on the wrong side of the beach,
Desperation and surprise the cackle of the devil,
The structures of man rush past the lucky the high,
And the beach ball and 150,000 souls.
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