Busy Dying

Petty souls, like dogs, will bark with greed and lust within their heart, and if they could, would steal the spark, the fire of dawn, daylight made dark. All hope is vanished! The pride, a generation's grace, evaporated into space, for hate and war still hold a place that insane poets can't erase. All love is banished! The lust filled miser sold his soul, but all his silver and his gold can't save him, if truth be told, for judgment falls on meek and bold. All treasure tarnished! The wolf will come, the owl with cry, with wind and fire as planets die, and in a corner of the sky four horsemen ride and demons fly. Mammon and famine! Then tears will fall, for life's a joke, and every prayer is lost in smoke, no one could hear the words I spoke, I had a dream, but then I woke. I guess I managed!