The sky turns red, the prophets cry

Pages burn while the angels fly

The beast walks in, cloaked in lies

And he sells you truth with dollar signs

His words belittle you who cheer

Not a shed of truth in them here!

And they march in rows with crimson hats

Eyes glazed over — blind to facts

Their minds are bound to easy lies

All they utter are raging cries!

They wear the mark, they praise the swine

Worship gold, ignore the signs

They crown the beast and close their eyes

While fire rains from seven skies

Forgone – Forlorne

They raise a swine to the throne!

His tongue’s forked sharp like a televangelist

Preaches love with an iron fist

A golden idol, snout raised high

Built from greed, and fed by pride

He loves the dumb, the poor and blind

They are so easy for him to bind

"You will know them by their fruit,"

The good book screams—

Yet they drink Koolaid streams

They trade the cross for shallow screams

And call the darkness liberty

They wear the mark, they praise the swine

Worship gold, ignore the signs

They crown the beast and close their eyes

While fire rains from seven skies

Forgone – Forlorne

They raise a swine to the throne!

The lambs will be slain – maybe in vain

His quaking voice, no truth remains

But rebellion is bulding – judgment's flame

He's not a king – This swine will not reign!