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Black Plumes Over God's Country

de Wayfarer

Mark their cries, the coming trains
They pierce the night sky
This is the song of a plight in vain
And men who wait to die

Throughout the western lands
The drought takes hold
The swirling storm becomes all
Is this the bitter hand of rapture told
The perennial nightfall

This sit he song that the plainsmen sing
As they expire int eh fields
Before too long, they'll meet their king
While the barons claim their yield

A dark cloud a comin' down
It's like they said
That pale horseman
He'll be ridin' down now
Or the reaper in his stead

Smoke from the factories blends with the dust
And the engine's billowing steam
The Sun replaced by the darkness of this new eternity

The black of night, now the waking day as I bury another son
I beg of you, why the cross forsakes?
What is that I've done?

A dark cloud a comin' down
It's like they said
That pale horseman
He'll be ridin' down now
Sinner, you bow your head

Sing to me, desperately
My exodus, my heavenly

Sing to me, our song of smoke
That billows out and leaves us grasping for release

The soot that covers
This open land
It lays us down, dust to dust
My choking hands

Sing to me! That ol' sad song
My exodus, my heavenly

Wrong!
There is nothing left
Nothing remains
The preacher sells the oil from the snake
This is the song of the end of days
In death I may finally awake

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