The moon is hanging in strands, with the atmosphere drenched with moisture. Two grotesque silhouettes rise against each other, the one a dragon, the other one a monstrosity; the one is called Gog and the other one Magog. Oh Dagon, smoke-god, war-god, listen, your arms of war roars terrifyingly while approaching.

But before the big world war, it is first left against right, yes, white man against white man, in a Western civil war. The world’s big bridal pair, Mammon and Babylon, appear poor and unkempt overnight and the stock market, as well as the stock exchange, is merely a bunch of rubble now. Look, Babylon is keeping her pet on a leash and it is covered with armor plates and metal scales, just like the anteater, the pangolin. Every scale is in the form of a triangle and in every corner is written the number six, together with the words, technology, capital and fraud.

Yes, the beast and its mark is here and the big lie becomes a reality in delusion and the Truth sounds unreal, yes so far-fetched. The red moon hangs in shreds and the atmosphere is wet and foggy, drenched with moisture and there is no guarantee in the big Exodus of the global retreat. Look, the four winds of the earth form a strange trough and the grain becomes little with nowhere any oats or rye left. The big powers cannot and do not want to supply the poor Africa so abundantly anymore.

Yes, with a useless Euro, destroyed by the storm Euroclydon, who will still provide surety for Greece and Italy and also for the other bankrupt countries. Look, the ten plagues are here and the grasshopper, worm and fungus devour the harvest, yes, acre after acre and heaven is not in the least concerned or worried about this. In this state, death claims its enormous number and more, again and again because the moon is a hairy sack and it hangs in strands in an atmosphere which is ominous, misty, and drenched in moisture.