Over the horizon,
The sobs can be heard,
From the Creator
Of the greatest Masterpiece.

Humanity that corrupted
His work
Show no remorse
Because each day
A new echo of chaos
Can be heard on the barren streets.

War comes like a plague
Turning the lavish scene
Into a wasteland.
Making people
Into skull and bones.
But no one can stop it
Because the origins are unknown.

The Creator
Will continue to cry out
In the desert
That used to be a home.
Waiting for the mass to
Listen and hear
The destruction
Of everything He holds dear.