Fire Storm

Black clouds gather, not from rain, but greed

A serpent's tongue whispering promises, lies they breed

Empty words from hollow men in suits of Grey

While vultures circle, waiting for the prey

Land of our fathers, soaked in sweat and Toil

Now marked for slaughter, fuel for their spoil

They plot in shadows, behind closed and bolted doors

A fiery cleansing, settling forgotten scores

First the whispers, then the claim, a"greater good" they say

But look closer, see the glint of steel, paving a darker way