The drums of doom are echoing
Across the barren hillsides.
Heavy carts on wheels of hatred
Loaded high with steaming tubs of vitriol
And the ugly trolls who brewed it,
Are rolling down the twisted roads,
Toward a city newly named Perdition,
There to dance the Sarabande
While flocks of screaming Peregrines
Circle through the storm black clouds
And all the shutters are nailed tight
Against the wind that that rattles doors
And augurs the millennium.
ljm
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 11:01 AM UTC
The drums of doom are echoing
Across the barren hillsides.
Heavy carts on wheels of hatred
Loaded high with steaming tubs of vitriol
And the ugly trolls who brewed it,
Are rolling down the twisted roads,
Toward a city newly named Perdition,
There to dance the Sarabande
While flocks of screaming Peregrines
Circle through the storm black clouds
And all the shutters are nailed tight
Against the wind that that rattles doors
And augurs the millennium.
ljm
One of the longest sentences I've latelywritten