Evils Time, Evils Place Poem by William Mowell

This country has gone to hell in an instant
Freedom for what, the government's pissed on it

My salvation is what sets me apart
From the preacher with his hand out in the park

Beggin' for what, money can't save your soul
Money can't make you whole, money will rip a hole

What is there to gain from green paper leaves
Dollar bills can't give you a lung, can't give you repreave

When money rules, the devil has won
A dark soul, a reaper, a black hole sun

Bad moon rising depicts the times we're living
There's too much deception and not enough giving

A great army cannot save the world
From the evil that exists that will unfurl

A prophet, a false god, a giver of peace
All these things, will be released

All will be untrue, and all will bring suffering
Nothing can help, there will be no buffering

Brewed in hell, conceived on Earth
The likes of Evil Dead will have a birth

The ultimate battle, the final fight
But when it's done, we will see the light

Lifted above, and showered with light
What a glorious day, what a wonderful sight