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
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