Sun setting over the suburbia,
Pale orange light reflecting into my eyes,
From shuttered windows on the second floors,
Golden hour just doesn't feel as right as yesterday.

Far outside of my point of view,
The president is a soldier for his country,
Kissed his wife and kid goodbye,
He says he might not see them tomorrow night.

Rain over, and over,
These bombshells falling,
Tears from the school and the orphanage,
God forbid, they fight for their dreams.

When your own people,
Surrender their weapons,
Cry to the enemies to finish this war.

Your reign.
will come.
To an end.