And tell you of the prophet of doom.
Come stand by the warm firelight
In the otherwise cold dark room.
The prophet of doom lurks in the night,
And will take you by the hand.
To a place where commercialism reigns,
A not-so-distant land.
This is our fate, we've sealed ourselves,
A future to behold.
We're doomed to life in glass houses,
Where no one can throw stones.
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