The hour of dread wanes near to thee.**
Where none of the doomed shall escape or go free.
A wickedness comes;
served swift, sour and cold.
There'll be no glorious tales to be told.
The dark side of heaven has aligned this millennial.
Plus 4 score and 7 seals - broken by sentinels.
The book with the sixes has beckoned the beast.
Now the oceans run over the lands west to east.
Blood rains down from the sky with deaths thunder.
Rended bodies all torn and asunder.
Sinners and saints will each wonder why
that the sun has been blotted, out from the sky.
There's NO second chances;
NO spells to be cast.
NO flipping the sands,
of some black hourglass.
No prayers will save them from ultimate doom,
unable to place those plagues back in their tomb.
Now the book with the sixes has been read by a priest,
Only reckoning the wrath, of the three headed beast.

ONE that breaths fire.
ONE with a horn.
ONE with the face of the savior unborn.

When the seas knock the mountains, all down from their height,
the memory of daytime gets cast to the night.
Then evil prevails for six hundred plus years,
'til there's nothing to eat...
...but black sand;
...and your fears !