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I see a dry storm brewing in a blood-red spray of dust. I feel the sun scorching in heatwaves over rivers that stop flowing. I see veld and forest scorched into ashes. I see a continent where farmers struggle with a cruel drought.

With millions of souls now travailing in famine. I hear sirens bellowing and I see a king cuffed and powerless. I hear masses protesting, we have outgrown our governments now. For long enough we have bled ourselves empty for them. Yes, I see a dry storm brewing in a bone-dry, red spray of dust.