(Don Breithaupt)

Dead words in a dead language
Graffiti from before the flood
Red birds on a black rooftop
And they’re out for blood
Third line of the second stanza
That’s the one with the prophecy
Raw code from the Gigabycus
And the Odyssey

Do you trust the evidence of your senses
Or do you look away

Don’t know the year
But you’ve been here before
Could be the bells
Could be the Delta War You call the friend
You’ve been depending on
But time is a ghost
And the future is almost gone

Cash out while it’s still trending
We may not live to see the rest
Zero chance for a happy ending
In the way-out West
All hail to the naked despot
The broken product of a perfect home
He’s got a nice cave with a fine cellar
And a catacomb

Do you play the politics of extinction
Or do you let it slide

International waters
One moonless night
They’ve found someplace
To park the payload
Motivational dollars
It feels so right
The end is here