This havoc of the century new, burns
my wondering eyes; and
slowly taking on all the glamour of alluring life,
but still i host resistance from the glutton bellies:
often they babbling sillily.
I pass and pause, but
two steps forward drag me miles bak,
Ah! no asylum in retreat.
How can i wipe off
my (teary) eyes with hollow smiles?
behold! the golden sky turning dark
and dyes heaven; and the demons reign
begins, that incessantly showers
fortunes false, upon the wrecked hearts,
immersed in dark.