Changing Seasons

Miracles bound by hands of hope

The gathering of seasoned hearts

Lacking any form of hostility 

Prayers reaching sky high

Their voices filling empty seas

For they seek things standing above

Nations come causing confusion

Yet, they remain

Unity, kindred

passed down from generations

Of their mothers and fathers spirits

Good intentions replicating

through changing seasons 

The Return of Enoch

I woke up a crusader

Never a choice

Still I find the truth

In this blackened black oil

Without a blood stained blade

I find my way

Divinity combined in me

I wear my crown

A king birthed to death

I wear my crown

A beast birthed, jungle deep

 

Preacher, preacher

I hear your words

Though I see the gold you wear

Shinning brighter than the cross behind

Blasphemy

Word!

They saying the world’s a square

Remember!

 

Still I predict

I die a God’s son

Reincarnated into heaven’s bosom

Watch this space

I seek to unlock

Greatness without greed

 

Ring the bells

I want none of that false doctrine

Pressed together to form slavery

Ring the bells

I talked to God

Sinner I remain

Fully aware I must persevere in this devil’s den