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In the offering of bitter wormwood and burnt unleavened bread. Coming from the North now, the bomb whistle sounds in wild, cruel chords. Yes, in the chant of so many dead, comes the whistling of missile shots. The Jews, now greatly outraged, aggressively count all their dead. Look, from Western waters, America’s and Europe’s warships are sailing across the seven seas.

In their self-centred ode, they unlock the gates of hell. In mass murder upon murder, coming from all quarters, homo sapiens of all colours, flavours and types die now. Now completely intoxicated with human blood, the false prince of peace calls out in unintelligible words.

His decision making comes from behind doors completely closed to the sealed. He mocks and teases the great Russia. He uses apartheid as an example, the Boer volk now humiliated and ostracized. His abomination-god, cast in all mixed metals, becomes a new one-world faith-fashion.

But this abomination stands on brittle, weak legs. Thus, there comes from a mountain a pebble from old Revelation words. It shatters the poorly concocted ode of the triple-six image. And from trenches globally, the riding-song of the dead now comes. Yes, in the explosion-sound of so many different bomb shots.