Whirlwinds all around

Little sunlight to see in a storm

In the eye it is peaceful yet worse

Every carriage looks like a funeral hearse

A pen isn’t a mouth that can scream

All it can do is be a bad copy

But isn’t this all just replicating what can never be cloned by man

Where is the true original, know that you never can

Is there any perfection

Or is the world all broken

But it looks as though there are angels in hell

Angels that can’t hear the tolling bells