The wars will rage,
The rulers will rule,
The world will age,
Like an ancient book’s page,

Gold and silver in time will fade,
To dust, to ashes, as all things made,
The dogmatic leaders are not ever swayed,
Look now! In ashes we wade,

Mother nature’s timeless gift,
Ruined with industrial thrift,
The people consume all things crude,
Look now! Polite is rude,

As the green fields turn withered and black,
The world meanders down this road to perdition,
Meanders down some darkened path,
Never to be recovered, or turned back.

Across the fruited plains,
The sword of lightning charges,
Until the world has been smote,
And with hearts maimed, and minds insane,

We make our way down this darkened path.