the world is changing.

Whole nations have been upset, whole foundations crumbled, uprooted, under the command of a new brand of god. The natives are dead, buried in their precious earth; whatever remnants still cling to the land do so in silence, either blind or with closed eyes. The Queen is dead, murdered by her own brother; the King is in pieces all over the moonlit floor. The spokes of tyranny are pressing into our backs as we speak, as new monarchs rise and fall with the tide, never one to stay, always wanting to leave; the underground bustles with black arts and black hearts. Nothing is the same as it was yesterday. Nothing will ever be the same, as it was yesterday, those childish hours under a gentle sun. All has been replaced. All has been lost. And so we repeat our sad anthem, or desperate call: the world is changing, watch it as it burns beneath us, as it ripples with discord – the world is changing. Whatever purchase we had in this soil, it’s fading, as we are. And without our government,

with deception the common flag, how could we expect anything to stay the same?
The world is changing: what part do you play, in this house of uncertainty?

guest . become