APOCALYPSE

There are four horsemen riding from a million miles away On some distant star's horizon and they're closing day by day. On the white horse rides pestilence, infection, fever, pain You had resources to end all this but you looked on with disdain You'd rather clothe yourselves in gold than feed the man in need The inhuman face of the human race in its sheer relentless greed. There are four horsemen riding from a thousand miles away On some fast fading horizon and they're closing day by day. On the red horse rides almighty war, destruction, hatred, waste You had resources to end all this but it seemed to suit your taste You'd rather blame, shatter and maim those perceived lesser than you You dismiss then deride with dauntless pride the righteous thing to do. There are four horsemen riding from a hundred miles away On the visible horizon, and they're closing day by day. On the black horse rides the famine of hunger, thirst and drought You had resources to end all this but you'd never share them out Life to you is fair taking someone's share if it keeps you walking tall Let nations starve as you cut and carve the prize, then take it all. There are four horseman riding the pathway to your door You were warned from ancient scriptures what the four horsemen stood for On the pale horse rides eternal death, the fate that binds us all From the obscene rich to the tramp-filled ditch everyone of us must fall Those craving power face death's dark hour, naked as a winter tree All those heartless ways and the artless days laid bare for all to see. Now there are no horses riding, no light, those days are gone Just the endless night and the coal black flight of the earth's oblivion