The weapon was a single projectile charged With all the power of the universe An incandescent column of smoke and flame As bright as the thousand suns rose in all it's splendor An iron thunderbolt, a gigantic messenger of d**h Which reduced to ashes the entire race The corpses were so burned as to be unrecognizable. The hair and nails fell out, pottery broke without apparent cause And the birds turned white, after a few hours all foodstuffs were infected To escape from this fire, the soldiers threw themselves in streams To wash themselves and their equipment The Mahabharata, ancient Indian text The past is just the past isn't it? Or is there so much more behind history, too old to be told Blocks of faith, power and greed could not stand a chance Would be taken to their knees I've read the accounts of mushroom clouds of four thousand years Past and the flight of Viminas and structures placed in such a way That just may spell out our fate Reduced to tourist sites, so be the maps of civilization Watch the sun fall The year it ends, watch them all come down We won't need our bombs to make the rain fire All tongues, all faiths Correspond on the fifth sun's fall You can't use your greed to buy your way back One life, Armageddon comes with a surge to burn and purge Materialists run with a life all in vain But there's no justice like the end of the world