from good to evil, not knowing how
perfidious in growth with torture around
Machiavellian severity, death will be found.
Slice through veins, cut with will
destroy thy enemy from a view on a hill
run as one, swords in hand
axes ready, a raid on this land
Spoils of thunder, wrath of Thor
bid ye’ no rest from the gods of war
water reigns over mountainside
cloud thee over the mist o’er bride
Gently settle, onwards flow
into lands cleansed with snow
red stained fields, towns of fire
one must recover with rested respire
Graceful gods, a thousand years pass
the only raid now is crystal in glass
countries of peace or so they say
until the judged devil doth have his day
The futuristic person will feign dismay
at that time humanity will pass away
comfort in wealth, oh have the last shout
watch out, watch out ‘there’s a Humphrey about!’.
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