Look, at what I see, in the distant far.
Four riders purge and all of man does yell.
Whence did they come; beyond the brightest star.
Man's wailing is a sad and frantic hell.
War, Pestilence, Famine, Death they do sow,
Followed by hounds ripping our flesh apart.
Tearing meat & bones, the blood does flow.
Oh GOD, end it and grant me a fresh start.
The cry of Vengeance is their constant chant.
No mercy given to Pope nor plain-man.
Ripped souls cling to life; they gasp & pant.
We are all doomed; escape if you can.
Pray for me quick, I scream and I cry.
You are too late. too late. I die. I die.
These four have reaped violent vengeance on me.
I'm apart; slashed & ripped & torn & cut.
My eyes are gone; bloody sockets can't see.
Blood, waste and slime are oozing out my gut.
I feel agony and my stench is foul.
Four thieves steal my life; eaten by hounds.
My remains are no larger than a bowel.
The Earth is gory; blood covers the grounds.
Our juices sucked in; the soils must soften.
No praise, no prayer; nor kind word for one.
All is lost; no priest, no grave, nor coffin.
From this terrible fate no man can run.
The Four Horsemen, clad in crimson-silver,
Came to Earth and our souls they do pilfer.