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I hear a voice calling: Who was the cause that the country is doomed? Look, in a strange season with no flowers in bloom. There is little cabbage or pumpkin on the farmlands. In the citrus orchard there is no tangerine or orange. The famine now begins to reduce the masses.

I hear a voice calling: Ration-ration. There is no nutritional value in the financial trillion. From Ethiopia to Cameroon, all the hungry masses are completely doomed. The media desperately tries to conceal the misery. But on the foot of the out of place one-world organisation, this shoe fits excellently.

Rebellious crowds now gather on the market square and the soccer pavilion. The opposition leaders try in vain to kiss each other peacefully on both cheeks. But the land flags are discarded in flames without further ado. The crowds protest. All our misery was caused by our leaders.

In this period, the once rich man loses his fat shape completely. The country lies doomed under this weird, strange season.  Yes, in the echo of the voice that keeps on calling: Ration, oh ration, oh what can we do? Look, mankind is completely doomed.