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Red of desire,
Black of the night
Orange of the fire,
A world to ignite,
      This was the color of passion.

The odor of ashes
Rust and charred wood
Fill the deep gashes
Where cities once stood.
      This was the smell of hate

The hunger of nations,
A thirst of greed
Excrete indignations
On which to feed - 
      This was the taste of madness

The winds softly speak
Of yesterday's worth
Where are the meek
To inherit the Earth?
      This is the touch of fate.

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