Hide

Ready or not, they’re coming. 

Burrowing for our remains.

Hide now, be hidden. Invisible.

Don’t move don’t tremble don’t breathe – or they find you.

Be still be silent be ready – they’re coming.

With eyes that see green and boxes that see red - they’ll find you.

It’s certain.

They’re coming.

And when they’ve burned away your hiding place – they’ll take you.

When there’s nothing left but rubble and ash – they’ll kill you.

When the skies turn orange again and the stars go out – you’ll be dead.

Lost.

They’re coming.

But I’ll find you first, brother. 

I’ll find you.

I will.