the endless procession of funeral marches
the whispers of the mad man that lives in the wind
the weary heads bent towards the ground walking in line
a black river of mourning flowing through the streets
the hot winds of death sweeping the earth
and death grows inside a nucleus fire
there is a mad man that lives in the wind
speaking only when end time is near
the age of fire has begun
the flames roar big as mountains
stampeding wildly through the cities
endless waves of deadly destruction

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