Freezing temperatures in the heavens
Thunder shakes the winter white
Fear grips, the people asked, is there hope
The riders upon the clouds beckoned
Is there hope to have, and we ask why
Every storm has grown
As if we've broken some code
And we were about to die
We do not control our future
Nor do we control destiny
Nor fate
But this time
Worst in remembered history
This was Armageddon
Without the trappings of religion
Or damnation
