From the desert comes a voice, far and hoarse. He calls: Listen oh bone of my bone, gene of my gene and flesh of my flesh. It is time to begin to recognize the signs of the times. Nowhere is there law anymore, no order or any rules.

It is now the time of the beast and the world emblem reigns everywhere, in the mark of the beast. With God’s Spirit nowhere anymore, man once again celebrates her pagan world festival, in vain.

Look, there in a dust cloud, Raca is coming across the plain, in duplicate measure. While dancing he begins to murder and he picks a fight with everyone. With his hand open, begging is all that he believes in. Enchanted by his own madness, all order has lost the battle against him.

In his total deficit in any ability, he sends his requests to hell. In his aggressive sexual line-dance, first he dances in the back and then suddenly right in front. In court he cannot lose a case because Raca can indeed really do magic.

Yes, he dances and he murders, while he pierces all pure flesh sadistically. The liberalist is enthralled by his being, while they, in suicide, are losing the battle against him. The wild being shows his fangs in perfect ivory and as a cruel carnivore he ravishes his prey bloodily.

He comes from the North and he opens his very last gateway to the South. He makes his nest between two mountains in an urban valley and from there the first shooting begins. His victory begins on a high note and in his slaughter he goes big.

He leaves his track everywhere with an abomination paw, but he is stopped as quickly as lightning by Russia’s fleet. A small sanctuary sings gratefully: Oh our Elohim, You are Infinitely Great.