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.