When life is three times aplenty and vultures go feast on the many

Going into threat protection is left understood without correction

The reckoning awakened into the sign of death forsaken

Now and now again the burning still left inside of the pen

Blowing in the wind boiling a frog turned green in the murky, sunken foggy bog.

Blue as an iron condor is showing its true colors red and violet turned yellow against the setting sun. and nobody wants more than a man still stuck in his own mind. This is my prophecy my insurance against time.