Their mouths
are drooping prophets

Who've left their
salad days

Now speak in smooth
stone words

that will never
come to be

For the days
of war , famine
and pestilence

leaves one sitting
on the fence

and death
Will surely fall
to the bereft

without a course
of recompence

You stand there
as astonished

You didn't believe
the speech

When out fell the
smooth stones

of ultimate defeat