Tis all pre apocalyptic.
Weather warnings, walking strangers.
Tartars and martyrs.
Mystical messrs.
Mothers and daughter.
The devil he caught her.
People are scared, if anyone cared.
Tearing their hair out as, if silly string.
The birds flying backwards.
They're losing their wings.
Impromptu performance.
Encouraged encounters.
With wise men and sages, as was writ on the pages of folklore.
Then criminal law.
It's just being broke.
By the sisters and tartars,
My God they awoke.
Wearing suits fashioned in satin by tailors, bespoke.
Wrapped in screens made out of smoke.
World became scared.
Most sacred Tatari awakes.
(c) Livvi MMCV