The End Of The Age
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? ...