Apocalypse The cold wind blows, The rain falls in sheets. Everyone knows: Don't go into the streets. Men with guns, And women too, Everyone run when they come to get you. Nothing is nice On this fateful day, What is the price the human race will pay? Some say they're here In the name of the Lord. Others, it's clear, worship only the sword. The demons rejoice, their master's goals. The people have no choice but to give up their souls. All is now lost, No hope to choose from. Beware now the cost: Apocalypse has come. -Again, the date is lost, but it was definitely written before my Junior year, So probably 1995 or 1996...*sigh*
Thou mayest leave a message here which will get to the lord of this realm, via e-mail. You get an odd thought as you stand here: "This is all somehow related to or provided by Geocities."