Caged highways long and cursed, spine of the drought
and surrounded by bare hills, burn marks and wilting exotic pine
Pale as bone still and motionless
The long arid concrete expanses
form the entrance for the morbid fiendish army
of an industrialist nation
Wearing uniforms that match the drab depressing highways
Marching like angry zombies
Their aircraft pollinating the bald hilltops with snipers
Three story high heavy tanks gripping the tarmac and clicking over it
Columns of professional soldiers sanding their boot bottoms over it
as they coordinate to engage the first wave
Small towns will smolder in their Wake
The offspring of the serpentine road, steel and concrete promising mass graves
Then drowsily the people will wake and realize that from the bony road
Comes a threat that will roast cities alive
That will enslave and torture
this beautiful realm is now at stake
noise and devastation will push the city dwellers into refugee camps
And the fall of the most bountiful country in the world will occur
And there will be no theory that can save it
No set of noble rules or line of complaint that will be heard
No slight of hand, or well threaded deception
Paradise will be stolen and it´s resources sold to the highest bidder
The pollution and wastelands of attempted battle will be the new habitation
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