"'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." The Bhagavad-Gita
He rode on top of a white cloud
He rode on top of a white elephant
But this wasn't the circus
And he was no clown
He was the father of black holes
When the bombs began to fall
He tried to close the coffin
that he opened but it was too late
Warheads multiplied like rumors.
Nobody kept them secret
If you look high enough, you can see him.
He rides on top of a white cloud.
He rides on top of a white elephant
He is the father of black holes
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