Land of the Conceited

I felt a change coming in the southerly winds,

An alteration like there had never been,

Firestorm sky, left a distant, deadly surprise,

A future of devastation,

Destruction of an obnoxious nation,

So change the station, hear the horrific cries,

Of a steady demise,

Watch the dead quietly rise,

Forming the ranks of those who did not care,

Those who would not bare,

The burden of freedom, liberty, justice for all,

Those who never answered the call,

The land drowns in fire,

Its ignorant people, fail to perspire,

They march into doom's pitch-black hands,

Knowingly submitting themselves to his calamitous demands,

All the while, becoming casualties to time's worn sands,

So fear not dear citizens, live on in obscurity,

Forever a victim, of your own prosperity.