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?Why? Why have you done this? This terrible thing, a strife to last the ages, or what little left of them. You know what I mean, you the spinner of fate and fortune. This blunder, a reminder of your unwanted intervention, has scared so many and ruined the lives of others. You created this and now in your ignorance are destroying everything I had thought you stood for. What was your reasoning on this? Why now? Why ever? What was done wrong in your eyes? Was it the snake, your own kin?s folly or was it a man washing his hands of his mistake? You have destroyed many nations and built many more, but why destroy all creation so early in its brightest time? Was it not foretold that those bearing your seal would survive. If so, then why are we all still here, not one of us gone? Stars and crosses that?s what it is, the basis of our demise, not fire but six points that spell our doom. The world?s spinning motion is it controlled by these shapes? Or are we spinning out of control? Onward and onward the cries of the poor shout as horrid images of the wealthy board a way out. This surely cannot be; this is such a terrible thing to happen, many centuries spilling over the edge of the world. One, two; One, two; and who are you? The man in the dark did cry. Of morbid cries and ashen skies, Did froth and cough in tune.

With the imagination of no religion have you come down to earth to smite those who saw through your lies? Children bleed as the clown foretold, a mourn to remember. Seven, seven, seven; an important number indeed, and yet as such you have many ideas from these too. Loose upon the world the dogs of war ravage, Apollyon leading the pack. Angels and demons alike cry out in pain for the suffering of the human race. Oh why Cruel creator? Must we endure this? You have always told us this was not to be our fate. You changed your mind, for what, pleasure and enjoyment? Or perhaps to start anew. Anew? Nay, that cannot be, a rose can?t smell as sweet when all around the dung heap grows in power. Manure, Manure, A pedicure, A symbol of riches around. To be a king more suffering must be unleashed upon them. Two, three, four; a knock along my door. Who?s there? A saviour, a prayer? Perhaps the seed of Lucifer has arrived early to the party of the end? The mist thickens as thieve of life; War, Hunger and Strife begin tearing the world apart. The world is dead; a spear, a head to what end shall this suffer? Many have tried And many have died. A wicked fate for those who care, Awaits on the other side. Here we go ?round the victory fair, The victory fair, the head of a spear A warning and installation of fear.

World turn and world spin, but never, never will you win. The butter churns as does the stomach of the world. Indigestion the main cause of the unsettled world. The pounding of the war drums fade as more and more souls depart along the dream river, the Styxian shore awaiting their arrival. Another way to dream, as foretold by a mad old Frank and his lucky ball. The stars are going out, out where? The universe has failed and so have you. The war drums again fade away, melting into the nothingness that that awaits them. Intriguing is the sound of nothing, or is that you? A lost cause, a failed attempt. There must be 144,000 of us now, the population of the earth fractional in a single blight. The reflection from the well of tears of those departed and what is still to come. Pandora?s Box is broken, even hope is lost. And yet, we still fight on. We have learned not to fear you; you cannot harm us, because we are the last. Complete destruction is impossible in the largest part of the end.

A sigh crosses the heavens as not one, but two thousand clouds cry onto the earth, their mothers yet able to comfort them. The fear of the end kept us in line, but now the fear is gone. What?s done is done, and done we are from spending eternity with you. 144,000 types of turmoil for each person rain down as the fragments of Pandora?s Box are being pieced together. Until now Hope has always remained, but Hope has gone, a whisper in the wind, a sound with no meaning. Hope shall be found, she must be our lives are fading glory with her, a distant memory remains.

But wait, what yonder window breaks? It is the Westward sun! Joy and hope beam down upon us and their rays liven the earth. Is this it? The 144,000 redeemed? Nay, the sun, the sun is dying; it?s last rays of hope with it. The fate of the world is sealed, once again the sky darkens. Darkness; its soft, cool breath can break even the strongest of men. There is a cry from within, a woman?s hard labour paying off, what will happen? 144,000 and one! An extra one, the balance tipped, what will happen? Closer to birth the mother is, the fruit ripening ready to be picked, the end of the year closing in. Could this be the one? The one babe to help us live? This may be, however we need to keep the balance. Do we sacrifice one life to start another? Your laughter falls on deaf ears, you knew what was happening, and we did not.

The sacrifice has to be made, the mother wrung in agony, the fruit turning sour. One by one people backed down from performing this deed. Once more the mother cries in pain, the child beginning its arrival. The prophecy, another lie from you, states the sacrifice of one of the blood line. We search for the mother?s family finding only the illegitimate husband to be present. ?You must do this,? a hideous voice whispers in my ear. Yes, this must be done. This was our last chance against you. The ceremony was carried out, the 139,999 ready and waiting, savage, like you wanted us. The ceremony complete saw the child?s birth. This child is not the child that was expected. No, he was not; your final lie has doomed us all. The babe shrieks out in an unearthly language and begins his rampage; the end has only just begun.

White walls. That?s all I can see, white walls. They speak to me you know. Ha, yeah, you think I?m crazy. I am not crazy! This whole world is coming to an end and you cannot see it! The government is the cause of this, yes! It has to be, that?s why I?m in here... The end is near, but do not fear it will be over for you soon. They cannot keep my story in here forever, one day... one day, someone will find it and they will know then what I know now. I guess we will find out soon what?s in store. Till then, sweet dreams?