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Ominously, a terrifying storm arrives in a pale grey trough. It is coming alarmingly, accelerating in its approach. But there is no good fortune in this cold moisture. The gale comes to the tune of march-music of war. Yes, in the menacing, chanting song of Gog and Magog.

The great, dangerous war machine rises again in its approach like a gruesome monstrosity. But the masses still consider all of this as nonsense. They cry: Look, all of this is surely just brainwashing, in delusion.

But ominously, the storm breaks loose unexpectedly. In bomb after bomb, they just keep coming more and more. In the great ensuing rampage, ships start hastily docking, illegally, in other people’s quays. While multitudes desperately seek to flock to their homelands.

With the last cattle and sheep hidden in the pen, the world-chef desperately calls out: Look, there is no more meat for the global cooking pot anywhere. A multitude of men are now lured to their deaths as soldiers, with a large salary. From East and West come the Gog and Magog, yes, marching to the tune of march-music of world war.