As the Missile roars in from the plain
So come the glorious pain.
A blasting sun-like solar heat
Covering man with its shroud-like sheet.
Eyes will bake,
Feet will cake.
Heads will burst,
That is not the worst.
Cities will crumble,
The skies will rumble.
Look for death across the sand,
In the last day in all of the land.
If Man becomes so stupid at last,
The world will end in one, big, blast Daniel Barbeiro - barbeiro@ip.pt
