The end of all times and lands shall be...  When the Moon crosses the battlefields of Mars, a bee  will fly through a fog and flame over the Megiddo. And  a bee will sit to my opened mouth in crusted blood and  golden dust. In the sunset. Humans is only the flesh, is rarely  beautiful, often not. Their "souls" is only the food for the  black Eagle. I'm rising over them and I may crush them  as a worms in a dead flesh with their pathetic desires and  lives. They devour all around itself, they waver, multiply, creep  and die. At the end of all times and lands... I received the  strength of Our Father. And I'm keeping away emotionally  and see them as they crawl to the end of all times and lands.