An Anthem for the End of the World

I am the beast spake of as late that rises from the sea
Breathe rotten flesh of baby's breath and pungent heresy
Through soilent green and gasoline
Leave weeping mothers be
And pumping blood that rises fresh as murdered poets bleed.

I am the creeping fire burning
Twisting, hissing, children yearning
Leaning ever forward for the song
And as I burn through rubbered glass
Let nothing wicked come to pass
As torches lit in glory flank the throng.'

I am the beast spake of as late that rises from the sea
Ten diadems crown seven heads throw ashes high and free
Through riot gear the seventh seer
Had no one left to see
That earth was still in iron will and silent victory.