The sky rumbles its pain.
The clouds shout out in vain.
The water bubbles hot.
It won’t forget you not.
Run from the hot flames of hail.
Try to hide to no avail.
Seek shelter from the storm.
This will be the new norm.
The Dead now run the town.
Chin up and dare not frown.
We must bow to their favor.
While we wait for our Savior.
THE DEAD GAME
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