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Comments about Stephen Smith
The land shakes with the deathly roar
The lushness is burnt into barren waste
Trees like towers fall as the death wails past
The clouds anger and weep
The sun flees the inevitable end
Silence falls and the quiet is not welcome
For the monster still hunts
And the monster still kills
And the people wake to see the desolation
And the Yanks have scorched the earth.