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Train is roaring as we sit staring down the fatal track
Can’t see impending gory as we slouch with jaws so slack.
Ground’s surely shaking from her omnipresent headlong rush,
Smile in ignorance, unawares that soon we will be crushed.
Every sense should howl warning whether eyes, ears, touch or smell;
How taste us nothing as we perch huddled on track to hell?
Here amidst we senseless is a watchman who knows he’s right;
Yearns to usher us to safety, prevent the awful sight.
But we go about our business with our peaches and cream
As he pounds his fists and harangues us with ongoing screams.
Tells us of hellfire and how the end is drawing near,
With his words he longs to save the flock that he holds so dear.
But we all just continue as we know the prophet’s daft;
Redoubles his fury, longing to change our epithets.
Works to wake us that we might see what’s right before our eyes,
His long, loud warnings heard as naught but wasted wails and cries.
Visions that he’s seeing are out of focus with our view,
Crazed watchman on the sidelines what is he supposed to do?