Above the mist of a crescent moon
It�lays in wait�and is coming soon.
Like a deadly disease without a cure
A horrid nightmare for all to endure.
We abide our time with life's desire
And await the serpent with all its fire.
The gripping fear that rides so�high
The women tremble, our children cry.
--Like the evil impression in an icy tomb,
rides the soul of�impending doom.
To technology and greed our ideals transcend
Ourselves we have plagued to the living end.
To live or die? The time has come for all to pay
Our thoughts turn to God, on our knees we pray.
The skies grow dark and the mountains shake
We huddle in horror within destiny's wake.
A searing white flash and our�eyes redden
Arise, the golden mushrooms of Armageddon!
--Like the evil impression in an icy tomb,
rides the soul of impending doom.
Had we listened to the winds�of our ways
We would still be 'round to count the days.
Our bodies now wade the festering sore
And the one called man reigns no more
--We witnessed the evil in our icy tomb
and rode the soul of impending doom!
http://www.darkpoetry.com/node/work/125176
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