a real storm is brewing
the sky is growing dark
the air is hanging heavy
only waiting for a spark
there's evil in the highstreet
every billboard selling death
all the good inside each one of us
is drowning in its breath
but the storm is coming closer
going to wash it all away
these long white nights of waiting
growing heavier each day
there is wickedness in mercy
when the wicked take it on
and they use it as a weapon
as they blur the right and wrong
but the storm is getting closer
can you feel it in your all
just stand there still, your senses will
be ringing with the call
for all prophesy is over
and the gates of heaven shut
for we took the saints and hung them
and we kicked them in the gut
and we scurry round the tower
grabbing scraps of rotten meat
leaving open trails of droppings
trodden down with ratty feet
may the storm she come tomorrow
may the tower be cast down
may the lies we live each twisted day
all wash away and drown
Errors of Judgement by Wayne Myers