The Bomb

January 12, 2008
When anarchy rules,
Hell you will see.
The death of us all,
You’ll wish was a dream

You’ll run for the hills,
Its shelter you’ll seek.
From the fire in the sky,
And the death on the street.

You’ll trample old ladies that lie in the street
Trying to escape the death at your feet.
To tired to run, with no where to hide,
You’ll lie in the street and wait to die.

When it’s over we’ll all be gone,
Nothing left not even the dawn.
No birds to sing, no bugs to bite,
Only ash that blows in the night

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