The Rehearsal
Covid was a piece of driftwood in our psychic stream.
A dress rehearsal for the landslide that's coming.
To sweep us from our good dream.
An appetizer before the seven-course rapture.
It is written in our coffee-ringed bibles.
These prophecies cannot be undone.
We are caught up in the current of one global currency, economy.
The darkest of the darkest entities.
Armies are aligning aside the river Styx.
Around the dome of the golden rock.
Pieces of the temple are gathering.
The antichrist will proclaim he's God.
Demanding all bow down to his whim.
Some will be sated and seduced
donning the number of the damned,
Some will shimmer in unbowed faith
and be saved by the blood of the lamb.
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