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In a continental monsoon, with a totally disrupted rain-season. The mistakes of the past are no longer concealed in the present. In the big chaos with nothing that can be reconciled anymore. It is only the big decay that boasts in madness.

In the core of the earth, the big iron ball sizzles glowing hot. The sea changes from blue to toxic green. In the net of the fisherman there is no galleon. The sea-food smuggler reports to his syndicate, forget about any abalone.

In the forthcoming rationing with little vegetables or pumpkin.  Neither the luxury of fruit or sweet watermelon. In the citrus orchard the withered lemon perishes. There are also no tangerines, grapefruit or just a lemon.

Praying, the Catholics now seriously, begging, begin to kiss the statue-feet of mother Maria. But heaven reacts unsympathetic by saying: Everything through your own doing. In the big forthcoming famine, the overweight Americans lose the shape of their posture from over-fat to skinny.  Yes, with no American dream to boast of. Even their “mighty” president is now called a moron.