Burning angels plunge from the skies
a choking world convulses and dies
thunder roars from the throne
rivers of blood rise in the streets of the city
moans of the innocents; the mothers' cries
over broken babies, pierce to the bone
All is despair; the four horsemen race;
the enemy comes; all hope is gone.
The life of the cosmos flashes before the eyes
of the dead , who have all died in vain;
who all died in battle; in screaming and pain.
Fighting to gain salvage for the good
and the television media talking head
sends words of placation to the walking dead,
who stalk both city street and wild wood.
Good morning boys and girls;
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
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