Ghosts feel no regret.

See the nightingale fly overhead.
Hear her sorrowful cries carry on the wind.

Jealousy, in your heart fills you with hate for all.

Taken back, by force, from oppression, your son, now dead.

A sudden flash.
A flicker of regret.
Face to face with death.

The son of man, civilization, reduced to ash by us.

Take what thoughts are left.
Sorrow, fear, and pain.
Channel it to survive.

A better world, never found.
Radiation feels so sweet.

Ghosts feel no regret.

All that remains, charred bones and flesh.
The smell of decay lingers here.

Who to blame but ourselves?
We brought this upon us.
No hope for change.

"Who to blame but us?" cries the nightingale.
Her call screams "death."

Take what you can find.
Hope to live for the dawn.

Nothing to left find, nothing left to save.
Ghosts feel no regret.

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