Trouble Brewing

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There’s always trouble brewing in the East, You hardly need it from the Sibyl’s mouth, The yellow sands of discord are brought forth By the ill-winds that blow out of the South, And there are always powers to the West, And occupation comes down from the North, And Safety can’t be purchased, only leased, And peace is a season brief as it is best.

All monuments are monuments to Threat, To what was imminent and overcome, Or what has happened once, lest we forget, And once again ignore the warning drum, And that oblivion, blind, deaf, and dumb, Should be forgotten for a little yet.