the prophet dares, not once, to tell His will.
through lack of piety his mouth is sealed.
and "woe to me," i cry, in voice that's shrill,
but by the burning coals i will be healed.
and on that day, o babylon, beware
(the time is coming fast, you wretched whore).
your sins and your iniquities laid bare -
the consequences chill me to the core.
yet there is still a little time to turn:
the God of all will bend His ear to you.
but, as for me, i doubt that you will learn;
to kill your young: there's nothing worse to do!
this message, coming soon, is heaven sent -
for you it's either perish or repent....
Your comments are greatly appreciated. email@example.com