Speak thy name, watch them appear
Wicked grasp, we fill with fear
No bunkers left, for our escape
Darkness cometh, with crimson cape

Hard to breathe, as lungs fill up
Barren pantries, empty cups
Rotten fruit, falls from the vine
As nations hunger, we wait in line

Tiny demon, with mass impact
Conspiracies, without concrete fact
Markets crash, a lack of faith
Hunted by this ghostly wraith

With gloves on hands, we grasp
Masks on faces, we collapse
No news, no end in sight
This year brought forth an evil blight

Those without laid down and cried
Those with money, up and died
It came for young, and old alike
No shields worked, nor deadly pike

Wooden planks laid over graves
Dirt to shovel, with steel spades
Hard to dig, through rough-hewn stone
For the love of God, please stay at home