The four are coming
On horses.
Apocolypse.
144,000 saved.
144,000 gone.

We're left,
The 666.
Wanted is 777.

A woman screams, giving birth...

Hooves thunder near us.

Black meant nothing, we were used to sorrow.
Red passed by, war was always there.
White. So what. We win, we lose.
Pale green. Epidemics come and go, taking who they will.
Purple. We finally noticed through our scepticism... too late.

Goodbye 1000 up there,
We'll spend ours down here.

7 horns, 7 eyes; we called it a deformity.

We didn't think... we didn't know...

Antichrist was too good.
We needed hope, but ignored it when it came,
Ignoring the blood shed for us,
Choosing the sinful power.

I'm sorry, my Lord.
I left the sacrificial lamb for the dragon.

Faith in human strength won out,
Human strength in faith burnt out.

Give body up, become a wisp of sorrowed faith.
Give thanks for the knowledge always there.

White horse descends.
Whiter than victory, internal glow.

Word of God speaks:
"I still love you."

He takes my hand,
Speaks from upon the cross
Looking down at me,
Staring at me,
Staring at my sin.
No place to hide.

Bare and dirty.

Still, He holds my hand...
And the dirt does not rub off on Him
But disolves in the Light.

"I make all things new."