London Fog
London, 1935
An eclipse sun is on the rise
Feel the wrath of every ray
As you are swiftly cast away

Sometimes at night, their screams, they turn to fog
As they gather around a demagogue
That autumn night, the wind was oh so cold
Now the chosen variable's controlled

Sometimes at night, their screams, they turn to fog
This night will be their epilogue
They light their torches and they all descend
This is how the trial world will end