Stark are the warnings they write in the sand
the ominous waves that roll over this land.
Dreams may unfold in a wink of an eye,
silver the vultures that soar in the sky.
Long lines of soldiers; their hands in the air
foul is the stench and nothing seems fair.
Robust metal engines move over the plains
impoverished farm hands cry out for the rains.
The push of the button, the scan on the screen
technology whispers, the agony's scene.
Wise men who lament the loss of the right
innocense screams to the heavens tonight..