The president has arrived,
the creator of our demise.
Signing deals in blood, no, in oil,
all while on enemy soil.

The desert sandstorms do not lie,
they tell us of our future.
A swirling whirlwind disaster,
that will be our future.

The burden of the beast,
is carried by the weak.
No one can escape,
even the simplest fate.

There is no knowing,
just how long we have.
But I can promise you,
we won't be judged on what we had.