Cataclysm

Tick-tock, goes the Doomsday clock.

It clicks closer to ominous Twelve.

 

Tick-tock, it echoes on blocks

where dangerous men do dwell.

 

Tick-tock, it echoes on blocks

where good men buy and sell.

 

Tick-tock, it echoes on blocks

where children run and play.

 

Tick-tock, it echoes on blocks

where mothers nurse their babes.

 

Run, run, it says to the world.

Pack your hatred and fear and doubt.

 

Done, done, is its final word

as the minutes and seconds run out.

 

Hello, Goodbye, the clock does cry.

Hand of friend shakes hand of foe.

 

Hello, Goodbye, the clock whispers and sighs.

Men shall only reap what they sow.

 

Fire and smoke and ash and dust.

The gears and cogs halt, jammed.

 

Unable to move, frozen from rust,

the clock watches the rise and fall of the damned.

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