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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 it 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 And woe to those who hear not Woe to souls who've been bought Oh, it's written on the page And woe to those who fear not Woe to souls who've been bought You don't see the ending of the age You wandered through 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 Which screamed in agony The sun will then be darkened The moon will get 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 What it means, what it means