Billions of blue blistering barnacles,
Thousands of thundering typhoons,
All the prophecies of the oracle,
& the sighing face of the moon,
All sing sadly,
All cry softly,
In the favour of my doom.
Oh, Man what have you done,
Killed my future and even yours,
prophecies may go & come,
But still there are left hours,
hours for the last sunset,
hours for the last sunrise,
but still much time is left
to delay all those cries.
You can delay my death,
you can delay what you fear,
you can extend your breath,
by making everything as earlier.
Oh, Man i beg you!
beg you for your own life,
bring back my hue,
and put an end to this strife
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