All that is left will be barren meadow as labarum. Camping at every necessary bend in love. The cold from the North wind then bites hard. The horror of a ceasefire is in the midst. Yet it boasts of technology and growth, And fast moving vehicles going into space.
Global commerce is controlled by the polemic masters.
Cliques with sinister agendas come to prevail, Poor nations are conned into precarious agreements Leaving awake a disgruntled community of serfs. Urbanization is a latter for civilization. A stench of accumulated rascality is evident. They too preached, but of violence and mischief. The nightmare is apparent in the policing, And calming the wrangles is but a death sentence.