As the angels creep ever closer
Every time you blink your eyes
They engage in wicked practises
So that a race of them could rise
They investigate
They navigate
Devouring all the things they hate
And sending them all back in time
Back to the prime
They do not wait
Until they've ate
From every state
And while all the people blink their eyes
To see whoever lives or dies
They gradually inspectorate
Which then worsens
A hundred and eight
Unfortunate little persons