The atmosphere is toxic without sign

no hint of gas, nor a tell-tale warning

nor a dead canary in the morning

to sound alert; as down a poisonous mine.

Yet danger spreads its presence everywhere.

Burn a cigar, a sanctuary light

or fire in the grate on Sabbath night

or spark dispute; “It is, or is not, fair”.

The fearful end time will explode, you see;

will silence every critic, every foe.

By the blood-red sun all observe and know

that power absolute, creates catastrophe.

But idols’ rule does not, for long, hold sway!