That beast of revelation, the one who must unfold..
Is certainty a mystery, that some may say they\'ve solved:
Seven heads, ten horns, rising out of the sea;
Question is, who is it?
Could it be you, and me?
The battle lines are drawn: is it time to fight?
Loonies on the left; and who\'s who, on the right?
Ideology, religion; they all want their way..
Does the one, who has the truth, have nothing much to say?
Money took centre stage; come, worship trinkets:
Or give yourself indignant rage; scream it out, like witches.
Come the nations, jockey for the power..
Keep them all, like tinder: waiting for the hour.
(At the point I should say, or at least let me ramble: if you understand the counterfeit, you shouldn\'t take the gamble.)
So, battle lines are drawn: each one has their support..
I ponder on the seven heads, and all that has been taught.
I know there\'s an answer, of that we are assured...
Do I need to prove myself?
You know that I am true.
The building must be tested, so before we start...
It\'s only in obedience, that I control the heart...
Six days we will labour, then when we pass the test...
The beast has nothing in us.
We enter into rest.
Seven heads, ten horns, on each one a crown..
Now: Lord of lords, and King of kings, will come and throw them down.
The fall will be great: a warning it may be.
The beast of revelation: who is it?
I don\'t want it to be me.