The sky ripped open
Before we saw its face
Seeping rotten, red remains
Descend with rusted blades
Happenstance has no romance
When all is held in circumstance
Hands gripped in prayer, heads aloft
Please divert this holocaust
Let me die before it starts
Hold me tight, alight our hearts
This is judgement, this is grace
This is when we learn our place
Be careful soul of what you seek,
For soon your skies will gather bleak
The strata seeps into your bones,
Unseen by rods and cones