World War III

[the Draç]

All that rush, with much on their plate.

Young children who are adults, come to debate.

With fate at their backs, they wish they could change.

Ending up arrested, or in a mental institute, because theyvinsane.

Anything for fame, they'll even switch what they love.

A God that seeks correction, even for the tiniest bug.

With shots, not hot, bullets that don't spin.

He was the one with the heat, let the games begin.

Blame on you, you're up with no loud.

Continue to think they're friends, they are then smoked, souls turn into clouds.

Walking the Earth, that is their job.

Standing still, saying nothing, they are then logged.