Why, how, what, by when,
And then from the ashes will rise.
The new face who is the one with,
Macabre gruesome hideous two eyes.
It will pierce with fiery force,
The people who can't say sorry anymore.
Too late in the night, time of blight,
Nothing will be spared from the score.
The lands will be barren and bald,
The crops burnt crisp to a coal shell.
The sun will descend nearer still,
And scald the world to an incendiary hell.
People like worms will stick like glue,
And like worms will get stir-fried.
No apocalyptic nirvana sauce,
Complacency you may have tried.
The crumbling facade of the tall will first fall,
Then a domino of death will roll.
In a staccato of serial number call,
There will be just an empty gaping hole.
