The sun burns red on the horizon

Once green grass is stained with crimson

The reckoning has come to haunt them

Few remain, condemned to mayhem

His beloved creations now fading

All pawns in the game He’s playing

Smoke billowing, the skies burn black

Visions blurred, there’s no turning back

Screams strike the cool November air

Chilling to the bone, a cruel nightmare

One of many Kingdoms crumbling down

But He just laughs and watches it drown

The trees are falling, souls are rising

All of this is just disguising

The real war above remains unseen

The hands of God are never clean