Up above the filmament,
Appeared a cloud of racing horse,
Like a plague of locust,
Stunting down and down in stallion.
As the trampling sounds of trumpet sounds,
The winds calls for the saints,
The seas and lands vomited there held beings,
As death gave up it throne of power.
Behold; His second coming,
Behold; the New Jerusalem,
From above the whispering voice of paradise
Sainted saints shouts, alleluiah amen.
Tribulations and threats on the dark sheep,
Scared and sweating like Christmas goat,
Torments of the Anti-Christ to the dark sheep,
Who choose to pay with their dark blood.
Returning from the other side of the world,
Is it a nightmare? Or a revelation?
Could it be rapture? Will it take place from now?
Hence I ran to the cross for protection.