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
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