Sweet seventeen and rising
Look down, it's holey ground
Legions of discarded shells
Marching for the sky, then 
Left, giving trees a new skin
Empty replicas of newly winged
Angels or maybe drunken aliens
With zero time to learn to fly
They've got pressing business
If you know what I mean
Wink wink nudge nudge bug sex
And is it anything to sing about?
Just listen to the choir of millions
As the ladies drop leaves like veils
To add to the carpet of husks
And corpses and living bodies
Leaves coated with the eggs
Whose inhabitants will burrow
Down deep, preparing to return
In the alien invasion of 2038