When our empty world spins silently br black rains will wash the sky br and the sun will shine ferociously br upon seas that have boiled dry. br br Those hopes and dreams of yesterday br float lost upon the breeze br and carved out names on summer days br will adorn the fallen trees. br br When the Gods outnumber worshippers br whose battles have been done, br It will be too late to ponder then br just exactly what they'd won. br br No poets then to scar the page br to tell of loves gone by, br or write those final epitaphs br from inkwells long run dry. br br No more will ugly minds disgrace br when the power games have ended, br just Earth back to the Universe br as nature had intended.