Gabriel,
the left hand,
Blowing his Trumpet
Ere the last stand,
Come all ye, hither,
Where Satan's
fallen slither
And witness,
Aye, God's fury
Nuclear fire,
ashes, and slurry.

The Angels aloft,
hawks of heaven,
Wings war-torn
and blood-soaked,
Aye, all the choirs
sing a battle-hymn
Ere the moon rises
and the sun's dimmed
And in six days
the world was made,
But in only one day
will the world go away.

Mankind hath
naught but to cower
As Judgement,
final, tolls its hour
As Angels to war
by the score forevermore
And this mortal coil
shall bubble and boil
And Poe's raven plucks
terror filled eyes
and craven tongues
Forevermore.

On silver wings
they fly
High up in the sky
And shall their
Deep-throated
B-52 voices
Fill the air
with terrible
Choices, and voices
Terrible voices
Transmitted by ghosts
Across the void.