Texty: Metal Church. Hanging In The Balance. End Of The Age.

I hear it in a minstrel wind
It's crying out the tune
Of a prophet's only hope to tell the world

He wrote it down it on parchment
But alas, no one believes
Of the vision, only one man could conceive
He knows it's true

Will the people have the ears to hear
Or will they turn their heads?
And blind their eyes to the truth once again

How is it that you know the
Season's changing by the leaves
But still you do not know that summer's near
It's near

So many teachers preach a lie
To the sheep who need a guide
They need a God that they can touch and see

But only if your faith is strong
And hope for the unseen
You'll find peace amongst the tragedy

And woe to those who hear not
Woe to souls who've been bought
Oh, it's written on the page

And woe to those who fear not
Woe to souls who've been bought
You don't see the ending of the age

You wandered through the wilderness
For forty years or more
To lead you to the promised land
Promised years before

Yet still you bowed down to a calf
You made with your own hands
Have you still not learned a thing?
The wickedness of man

And oh, hands up to the sky
And oh, the angel passes by

One bowl for the wicked
One bowl for the sea
One bowl for the rivers
Which screamed in agony

The sun will then be darkened
The moon will get no light
The earthquakes will shake up the earth
The terror in the night

And oh, hands up to the sky
And oh, watch the beast begin to rise

Remember what I've told you
Remember what you've seen
And tell the human race just what it means
What it means, what it means