The clouds gather like a clump of dark, swirling wool,
the growls of lightning invoking the wrath of oceans.
Comets of flame fall across the apocalyptic sky -
a storm is about to strike.
.
A crucifix glints, unwavering in the turmoil,
as inferno's portrait is steadily painted before it.
Oratorios echo throughout the walls of the world,
but nothing, even a prayer, can stop the upcoming darkness.
.
O Lord, will mankind be repented for their sins?
O Lord, will we be given another chance?
.
Look at this world, look at the faces of today-
tainted veins of time that we flow through.
Faith is a rare practice, belief is scarce-
How many souls will have to drown
in the lake of fire and brimstone?
.
O Lord, if humanity would just open their eyes to everything around them...
