Forecast Ii

Storm clouds gather over the sea, omens Tell of a coming agony Young lovers stay, O hear me, maidens Most in marriage long to be free The world's social order in disarray Engines faster the extreme of day. Summer is gone, harvest is come, behold Earth's buttress battered and tattered This is the cankering of blemished gold The sea warms and we are scattered O children, it's late, O too late to play The sands on the shore are washing away. Bring the boats back to the dock, rope them In vain, the waters rise again The streets are silent in Jerusalem Except the cankering chain. Vacant houses everywhere shall now tell Time has taken its first step into hell.