Our foxes and whistles,
make bubbles hit thistles.
The dawn is now short lived.


We’re mundane and boring,
and constantly warring.
Does no one hear that sound?


The lightning will beckon,
a harvest that threatens,
the hearth we do protect...


We have no control from under this cloud,
The bubble has popped,
The darkness is here,
All gone in a flash,
We all have been reaped.