Angel of the Wasteland

Angels have beautiful wings Sometimes they carry bell that rings But he has wings of colossal bat Eyes cobalt blue like a hellcat Apocalypse is mistaken for time of destruction With God’s glory as only hope beacon But infect it means unveiling what is hidden But it’s true of God’s coming it is an omen The song sings of heaven on earth Chance for rebirth But nineties and new millennium was for a soul As black as coal Pain violence famine and fire But like different song says he did not start the fire It is difficult to be generative crop In this place where there is no water other than teardrop Nothing for thirst of the soul To console He is not a beautiful angel playing trumpet Nor white sails of a frigate Yet in this God forsaken place He has his place His wings are scary but eyes are warm He can be a shelter from the storm With his own kind of math He can carve completely new path He is echo of a distant and fertile land Even if he is an angel of wasteland