Apocalypse

All that is green is stripped from the barren earth.
The flames cackle forth, wanting a taste of life buried in dirt.
All the barriers are shot down low and,
This is how the world ends.

The sands are gone and the starving eagles cry.
The trees have burned and black is the sky.
Dry is the land but the wind still sighs,
"This is how the world ends."

Will the bells chime one last time?
Will the old man rise from the bed?
No. No, he is dead.
Dead like the souls of the angels.

And down comes the rain on the mountain peaks,
And sad is the face of the child with the dirty cheeks.
Slower beats the heart after so many long weeks.
Is this how the world ends?

Soft is the lullaby,
Long and low.
With the earth's last breath,
"This is how the world ends."