Smoking Gun
Do we really need a written invitation
Can’t we see the writing on the wall
As mother earth spins out of orbit,
Dark clouds gather before the fall
Life’s hourglass fills with quick sand,
While the universe waits to implode
God-sent guardian angels hover tiredly
On the very edge of overload
Blasted by an electronic maelstrom,
Evil manifests itself on open ground
Armageddon seems the likely outcome,
Search and seek ye wayward bound
I can't swear that there’ll be hell
or heaven when the final battles done
But who really wants to stare down
The barrel of that smoking gun…
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