I hear it in a minstrel wind, it's crying out the tune    Of a prophet's only hope to tell the world    He wrote down it on parchment, but alas no one believes    Of the vision only one man could conceive       He knows it's true       Will the people have the ears to hear or will they turn their heads    And blind their eyes to the truth once again    How is it that you know the season's changing by the leaves    But still you do not know that summer's near?       It's near       So many teachers preach a lie to the sheep who need a guide    They need a God that they can touch and see    But only if your faith is strong and hope for the unseen    You'll find peace amongst the tragedy       Woe to those who hear not    Woe to souls who've been bought    Oh, it's written on the page    Woe to those who fear not    Woe to souls who've been bought    You don't see the ending of the age       You wandered throught the wilderness for forty years or more    To lead you to the promised land, promised years before    Yet still you bowed down to a calf you made with your own hands    Have you still not learned a thing, the wickedness of man       And oh, hands up to the sky    And oh, the angel passes by       One bowl for the wicked    One bowl for the sea    One bowl for the rivers    Men screamed in agony    The sun will then be darkened    The moon will give no light    The earthquakes will shake up the earth    The terror in the night       And oh, hands up to the sky    And oh, watch the beast begin to rise       Remember what I've told you    Remember what you've seen    And tell the human race just what it means