End Times
To deceive is to believe the lie
The lie that actually claims I am what I do?
To believe is to have faith yet
Faith isn't intellectualized it just is,
In the storms of life amidst the strife we stake our claim
Not to ever play the blame game
Although we must confess,
The angels almost blushed while in a rush
Just suppose?
Painted pony's with strange eskimo's'
Delightful days of getting lost in some purple haze;
The trip is on as we sing our final song
Filtered through its ellusive embrace;
In special reasons while lost in space
End times we claim the mark
The mark of the beast in sullen asps which fright in the night
Having long hanging viscous fangs that bite
We maybe living in the final days of evil
Shades of pine fallen asunder warm to lightning or was it thunder?
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