In the distance a storm gathers,
Thunder booms and hailstones fall.
I watch alone in horror,
For no others seem to mind.
Cyclones rage and scar the land,
What hope have I to resist?
Behold! Sights of hellish scenes,
Visions of some fevered dream.
The world cries out timidly,
Like a whimpering child.
Yet she is unheard by all,
Save for I who hears her call.
Thus ends our brief history,
So descends the world at last.
Who might we blame but ourselves?
No storm of nature was this,
Man caused this calamity.
Fitting, we began our tale,
And so too shall we end it.
This is how the world shall pass:
Into an eternal night.
A dream from which we shan\'t wake
What hope have we to resist?