Two prophets receive power to prophesy
One thousand, two hundred, three score days
In sackcloth, two olive trees
Two candlesticks stand in God’s rays
Breathing fire, they devour their enemies
Shutting up the heavens in their days of prophecy
They’ve power to turn the waters into blood
Into plagues in a sudden, striking flood
Two prophets
Reaching out to the lost
Two prophets
In a world tempest-tost
Some listen, some don’t
Some repent, some won’t
Still God’s the same today, tomorrow, always
When the time of these two comes to an end
From the bottomless pit comes the beast
Warring against them, killing them
Leaving them dead in the streets
Where also our Lord was crucified
For three and a half days, they’ll lay without graves
Globalists celebrate, satisfied
Standing opposed to the one who saves
As the lost make merry, dancing ’round the death
God breathes life and the prophets catch their breath
Two prophets
Reaching out to the lost
Two prophets
In a world tempest-tost
Some listen, some don’t
Some repent, some won’t
Still God’s the same today, tomorrow, always
And all shall hear and all shall see
Both ascending into heaven in a cloud
And all shall hear and all shall see
God’s truth avowed
In that same hour, the land shatters
A tenth part of the city falls
Leaving alive a tortured remnant
Begging forgiveness as darkness crawls
Two prophets
Reaching out to the lost
Two prophets
In a world tempest-tost
Some listen, some don’t
Some repent, some won’t
Still God’s the same today, tomorrow, always
Poet Cea 