When roads turn into rivers and people fall and die. When the only growth is concrete, reaching for the sky. Desert winds blowing, fan the mighty flame. Forest but a memory, don't even have a name. Seagulls feeding inland, dive upon the tips. Pipelines belch out sewage, exposing telltale slicks Ocean levels rising, stink of rotten fish, No longer do they live here, or end up in our dish. Now the oil stops flowing, and gushing from the floor, And water is the reason for which we go to war. Tankers held at ransom, await the highest prices, Now the tides have turned and water is the crisis. By Andrew K Fletcher