Missiles are incoming like rain,
Sent by an idiot without a brain,
One can follow them through the sky,
Low they are, not flying very high…
Some explode on impact,
Some give ya time to think,
Should I run, should I hide,
Should I shower so in death I don’t stink…?
Our world not as we knew,
The sky an atomic red, no longer blue,
For those that live a slow death will ensue,
The only place unaffected, Kalamazoo…
No bodies left,
Unless they had some heft,
Gone to ten thousand degrees in a second,
Those that remain are of hope bereft…
© ed ~ 12/26/05
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