Barren Lands forgive me,
i know I've been away,
too far for me to see,
the weeds grow astray...

Black Sky do not cry,
burning tears , relentless pain,
ashen fruits on the ground lie,
even as dark thoughts stain...

Dead seas - come alive,
once again spark some joy,
before He arrives,
with his scythe to destroy...

Its eleven fifty nine,
and things are not fine...

Fool yourself if you shall,
turn away if you want to,
but the fire's in your hall,
the water is too ...

The choice is yours,
turn away and let it burn,
singing runes of what was,
to little kids who cant return ...

OR stop.
Just stop and look around,
feel the selfless raindrop,
the owl's gaze profound...

The night sky,
a trillion stars,
A fruit fly,
its billion wars...

It is Eleven Fifty nine,
The scythe is near,
Things are not fine,
Yet you have no fear ...


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