The time for prophets may come again
Even though their words are sometimes common knowledge
Their time is near and I can feel
That one of these days the satellites will fall
Like blazing comets from heaven
With tails of hate and the fury of the masses
All burning, all screaming, all rage
Blind rage that makes the wise shudder
And the cameras roll
Blind rage that gives food to the power hungry
And carries the meal of the people
To their very door
When the skyscrapers kneel at the feet
Of the ones whom the prophets named
Don't be shocked, don't be surprised
That all that sowing of hate
Would lead to such a reaping of blood
