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From a mishmash, a bastard-gene was harvested to the world’s downfall. Therefore, the earth will soon lie empty and wild again, like in the beginning. In the sleeplessness of the late hours of the night, I hear the Grey Horse snorting impatiently. I hear his rider, the Jack of Knaves, calling excitedly from Hades: Look, I am coming quickly and soon for my enormous harvest.   

I see enormous cities destroyed indiscriminately. With infrastructures rusted worthless. I see an enormous flood with residential areas crumpled into rummage. Just good enough for useless junk.  Then the sun shone in a blood-red glow of heat. I know, in accelerated speed man will pay. The world-economy lies deceased, completely kaput.    

With nowhere a bit of prosperity, unprecedented poverty rage as king. Mankind rummage around with broken courage. They are cruelly divested of life supplies. In deceased congregations, preachers are never called back again. The breadwinners lose their jobs one after the other. At home, their hungry children cry for food.    

The once-fat glutton walks around skinny and emaciated without his fat potbelly. They weep and cry over once-lost prosperity. A lot of coughing comes from a new unknown croup. But medical help is globally divested from the dying. Because from a mishmash, a useless bastard-gene was harvested. Therefore, the entire world will soon be empty and wild again.