In a land so broken and bleak
With a people all beaten and weak
Where the wicked feed fat on the meek
The thickening clouds do rise to speak

In tongues that only the wise can hear
They talk of times tailored in fear
And warn of seasons raining with tears
Preparing humans gifted with ears

Where blood and brain are sold in crates
And dollar bags are used as baits
The point of Crash is just a push
As history’s fools await the flush