The trees are going to fall like they have been cut with a knife,
And the bodies hanging onto their roots will come back to life.
The moon will bear its children on the top of the steepest hill,
And the sceptics will watch in awe, standing on windowsills.
The highest tower is going to collapse like a house of cards,
And nobody will be exempt from taking a shard to the heart.
The rivers will run evergreen with poison ivy and pesticides,
And non-believers will call the casualties assisted suicides.
The meadows are going to run with red streams of carnation,
And all the misguided ghosts will escape their eternal damnation.
The deep seas will rise higher than my ever-boiling wrath,
And the critics will drown face-first in the brewing bloodbath.
-JW