Where do we go when the bombs fall?

The sky is declining

We're burning to cinders

Frenzied about with our heads detached

The horns begin to sound

Will draw ever more near

To the time, we are reduced to ash

Thickened soot on our view through panes of glass

Frosted walls of darkened spaces

Will cling to warmth, someone, or something

Hold hands and murmur a dying wish

That won't be granted, nor heard, or pitied

The sky has sunk

All the desolate debris

Has become our offspring's cradle

Nursed in vile, sheltered in despair

The fading twinkle of sol; How desperately he tries to embrace us

Wont shine down on this bleak terrain

No more then can the tainted rain wash away all the filth

As we arrive at devouring stones, and mud

Bared from the land we have ravished

Will find all we can appease with is our knawing guilt

Curled up in our dead philosophy