A Poet's Phropecy

Red, white, and green colored
People will rise at the end
Of the third full moon in the year
Of fire breathing monster to rule
Over the world and soon will fall
To burn their corpse with a boiling liqour.
The man from the pearl of the east
Is an ash in an urn at the end
Of his third term begging for forgiveness
Asking for reunion of souls roaming around
Left by the train to the station.
Great plague will start the war
Between the people of drugs
And the people of nature
The doctors and the warlocks
The machines and the lunar staff, orbs and charms, spells
The drugs and the herbs
The truth and the lie.
Vehicles are trash for the man will all be flying in the sky.