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