Under Montana stars, far away from city light,
on the nights where the moon is just the right amount of bright,
in the fields on the fringe of the far fir forests
there's a gathering of spirits singing a sacred chorus.
With wild whispered words woven in to wicked winds,
the specters' serenade suggest something soon shall end.
Linger not long to listen, lest you learn what's best unknown:
the topic of prophetic termination is your own.
Once you've heard it, you will live it, your fate destined for demise,
so take care next time you explore under midnight Montana skies.