Warning, warning...
It starts like a whisper -
Dry leaves stirring in the breeze
A voice of salt and sand,
Dry as desert dust
Full of fear
Heavy with foreboding

Warning, warning...
It stirs - swirls - builds
A slow wail of dying children,
Of storms sweeping
Foundations creaking, crumbling in the wind
A fate most ill

Warning, warning...
Your birth was a birth watched by crows
Omen-seekers staring with blind eyes
A night most foul
We can not separate ourselves
From the fate we were born with
These sirens swell and wail