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The last sand runs from the hourglass. In the big madness, the world is placing everything out of context. Oh, there is a Russian, there is somebody. He is dormant, he is standing bold. He is blatant and comes from all sides. As Alpha he is standing dominant over the world. He catches the West completely unawares. Sometimes he stands silently, innocently, completely on one side.      

In a peace salute, he holds his hand to all sides. But shortly after this, he catches his enemy completely unawares. He lets the world burn. He destroys the West, the child of shame. There is a country, it is called Russia. In his hand he is holding a sharp saw-edged sickle.  His hammer hits from left to right and to all sides. While the world is burning under his bombs, big cities lie scorched black under his onslaught.