Listen To the Scythe
Nobody listens to God anymore...
Even the pontiff has an ear of salt and stone.
Cherry-cheeked cherubs play frisbee with their halos.
The masses flaunt sinfulness like a cheap brooch.
As those four horsemen are surely approaching.
Our collective consciousness has crumbled into shadow.
Butterfly and finch song crushed into powder.
Nobody listens to God anymore~
They've made the creator into a comedic cliché.
Placed the nose of a clown on his pristine face.
With a sweep of graffiti sweet Mother Nature defiled. defaced.
Nobody listens to God anymore...
Until the scythe shuts Saint Peter's door.
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