The Day of the Lord

There’ll be mile-high waves and the sun shining red
Gale force winds charge at everything moored
Magma erupting high in the air, the pyroclastic dead
In that upcoming and terrible Day of the Lord.

Diseased just by breathing as horrible human echoes wail
Hot ashen rain sprays death on the natural hoard
With rivers turn bloodied catching cannonball-sized hail
Everyone’s aghast during the Day of the Lord.

Electrical fire blasts men off their feet, building fell through
Twelve-point earthquakes rock the Earth to its core
Children afraid with no tears left, numb to what’s new
Some people humbly repent in the Day of the Lord.

Eyes consumed in their heads, neutron bomb’s just a toy
The trees are all burning as His vengeance is poured
Every scheme of man is reduced to mere pitiful ploy
In the inevitable, incredible Day of the Lord.