Man Shall Not Grow Old

Be still, Mother Earth,

for destruction is encroaching upon thee.

The flames that led to mankind's birth,

now power hearts of war machines.

Death cries are rendered mute

by the thundrous claps of firing lines.

Percussion of the boots,

fires raging within holy shrines.

The sirens heed the final seconds,

there's a roar followed by silence.

Ashes fill the heavens,

but at least there's no more violence.