BLEAK WIND
The world passes by
Speaking a strange language
That seems like the tongue
Of a distant planet
Where the notion of suicide
Seems a viable option
For those under the spell
Of alien gods
So that madness becomes
The season’s latest fashion
Advertised by the victories
Of armies of death
And if this is a preface
To the fabled end of days
We can only hope it comes
While we’re lost in better dreams
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