Meddling spirits hide their masts in black.

Their banners bare black diamonds.

Roaring silently over the blue seas,

Even pirates fear the whirlwind of pain

. brought by disturbing their domain.

Forthright with devastation,

.

. winds change by their declaration.

Hurling headlong towards mysterious missions

Of cataclysmic convolution to tragic solutions.

Brought in by inescapable, bastardly pollution.

There’s nothing to stop its deathly fruition —

Not even the best and brightest intuition.

A lasting and vengeful spite bringing on an end.

In the end. Who would you call?

Don’t stall!

In the end. Who would you call?

Answer when, what it means to know,

. you’re about to be thrown up against the wall.

By the unrelenting might and force of it all.

With a stature and power so raw

. that those who saw it can’t speak of it at all.

From whence the roll of the ball —

. down the mountain it will fall —

.

. will crash into you despite you doing it all.

It’s a moment that will make you true.

Colors shining whatever hue

. Shining the light right on you.

From which you will always have to answer to.

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