I hear it in a minstrel wind, it's crying out the tune

Of a prophet's only hope to tell the world

He wrote down it on parchment, but alas no one believes

Of the vision only one man could conceive



He knows it's true



Will the people have the ears to hear or will they turn their heads

And blind their eyes to the truth once again

How is it that you know the season's changing by the leaves

But still you do not know that summer's near?



It's near



So many teachers preach a lie to the sheep who need a guide

They need a God that they can touch and see

But only if your faith is strong and hope for the unseen

You'll find peace amongst the tragedy



Woe to those who hear not

Woe to souls who've been bought

Oh, it's written on the page

Woe to those who fear not

Woe to souls who've been bought

You don't see the ending of the age



You wandered throught the wilderness for forty years or more

To lead you to the promised land, promised years before

Yet still you bowed down to a calf you made with your own hands

Have you still not learned a thing, the wickedness of man



And oh, hands up to the sky

And oh, the angel passes by



One bowl for the wicked

One bowl for the sea

One bowl for the rivers

Men screamed in agony

The sun will then be darkened

The moon will give no light

The earthquakes will shake up the earth

The terror in the night



And oh, hands up to the sky

And oh, watch the beast begin to rise



Remember what I've told you

Remember what you've seen

And tell the human race just what it means