Amber skies warn of a coming

Tribal drums sound with a drumming

The fox has finally won with a cunning

So the people react as they know how, gunning.


Silly yet stunning, how simpletons stare

So all knowing and so unaware

They would gorge themselves greatly leaving everything bare

If they believed it would save them from all their cares


News of a bruise left on top of a bruise

Leaves the few that never had with the right to choose

Once burning with danger the sky shows its blues

As it reflects the sadness of endless rues





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