Babylon...O Great Babylon...Great City, in one hour thou hast fallen...Fallen from the greatness that you once knew to the depths of your own treachery. Within your borders and walls and waters that encase you, your people are engulfed in their own wickedness. In time the soil in which you stand shall grow again. It shall flourish and be used as a base for a new beginning. Peace shall flourish throughout the lands as far as the wandering soul wishes to pace. For it was told of your folly and your judgment is just, but not swift. Your shall reap what you have sown in a world that was not your to control or corrupt. For in that one great hour, you will perish and crumble under your own misdeeds. Your hour and my time are not of the same. You hear hour and think sixty minutes and thirty-six hundred seconds. My hour is one thousand years, a millennium, time for generations to pass. To corrupt this great city further on to it's very core. America...O Babylon...Great City built on the dreams of the wicked, carried on the backs of the just. In 1776 are you recognized as coming to be. By 2776...O Great American Babylon...You will fall just as you have caused many to fall in your wake...Your greatest hour will be your last.
Reason for writing:
It explains itself.
Birth sign: Scorpio
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