The sky is falling down,
As smoke clouds the ground,
The bodies pile higher each day,
As World War III makes it's way,
But even through all this smoke,
I see,
I see the pleas for hope,
Pleas for the clearing of the smoke,
And pleas just to be free,
Free of tears,
Free of terror,
And free of sorrow,
None know what will come tomorrow,
But that doesn't really matter,
For I doubt it could bring anything much sadder.