Born of a dying star

We are part of a growing constellation,
generation born of a dying star.

We are part of a spoken prophecy,
young gods of a desecrated shrine.

We are part of a repeating nightmare,
resounding echoes of a haunted memory.

We are part of a broken nation,
legacy children of a suicidal mother.

We are part of a new world,
sequel to a destructive yestertide.

We are part of a growing storm,
harbingers of a doom to come.