It comes at night when least expected to take another;
Cold clammy heartless souls lay;
Unsuspecting of the turmoil,

Clothed in apathy and fired by assumption it will take all who do not believe.

Holding court the jester looks to make the ways of the world seem softer;
alas, his time is wasted as the head long rush for redemption shall drown out the sorrowful cries of the needy.

Beside the docks still dark waters flows;
The last vestige of humanity;
Waiting only for a signal to once more burst its banks and shower all with hope.

But in the still damp morning only the sobbing of the vultures can be heard, laughing at the feast placed before them;
A true recognition at last of the part they have played in the downfall of mankind.

The noise of their expensive motors finally overtaking the pleas of the lowly dealt the cruellest of hands by the devils spawn sent to protect them.