The year is now 2001
And though some things have just begun
The world, as seen through tearful eyes,
Has reached its long-awaited doom.

Infested earth we call our home,
With population overgrown;
Then how, so empty, can she seem,
When blood runs thick from nearby rooms?

The sky is black through callused eyes,
The world a wasteland in my mind.
And with none left to soothe myself,
I fear that I must join her soon.

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws