We live in a world of despair
And a world of quarantine
Waiting for the hated virus
Waiting for our slayer
Those already dead attest
We are becoming aware
Every rumored plot
Winds about most serpentine
Accusations a chorus
We've run out of prayer
We've run out of time
Fragile is this flesh
We've become prisoners
Not of fear, but of plague
This life is finite
This may be a final breath
Shall we acquiesce
Will we cry for help
Spoken without listeners
Our certainty is vague
Modernity made impotent
We cower in the face of the bearer
Nosophoros
Bringer of disease
Bringer of death
“Man might defined as "modern" largely to the extent that he attempts to control, as opposed to adjust himself to, nature.” The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History
