The drunken man falls down the stoop
his hands lowered to the ground to catch his fall
He lay there remembering the times of war
when he could not get up due to his injuries
But this was different
This was self-inflicted or was it?

Tragedy strikes and people lean on whatever
looks like it might hold them up, comfort them, provide for them
There is a day coming when the government, the churches,
organizations will fail to hold up the masses
for the war which comes will simply be too great
and too long to endure

Where will you find hope?
Where will you go for comfort, for food, to survive?
They say that if the last days had not been shortened
that no one would survive
and yet, we are born survivors
It is within human nature to survive
despite all odds

But the Hunter comes to destroy your body, your soul, your life
From the day you were conceived
you were hunted by the Hunter
Don't succumb to his tricks, lies, hopelessness

For indeed, a Savior was born
to claim your soul as His own
to redeem you from your fallen state
to Breathe into you life, hope, purpose, peace
and to love you unto Himself as family
as you follow Him with all your heart

~ ~ ~

The train pulls into the station
The children jump off one by one, ten by ten
They jump to safety as if a madman follows them
They run from the station to alert the countryside

The train is not a good thing
It is a methodology of death
The train leaves the station
New people are aboard
all unaware of the destination

O children, tell the Truth to the people
whether they listen or not
Prophesy! Speak of the heresy which sinks
the people in the mire

The Father's Heart breaks as the people refuse the Truth
and slaughter the children

Is there not a better way?
Did it have to end this way?

Lift up your voice, children!
REJOICE! The Father receives you Home

And the train of lies, hypocrisy, apostasy
speeds on . . .
You can hear the people on the train laughing
and singing "Amazing Grace"
but soon darkness comes
and the true destination of the train will be known to all

Holocaust, yes . . . but the people were warned
not tricked
They were told over and over and over that their fantasy game
would not end well
But the pastor was so sure and steady
the people friendly and the sanctuary so beautiful

Slow, slow death even as the train speeds on
Slow, slow death . . .

O children, sing of Freedom
Sing to the Father
for he loves your sacrifice

He welcomes you Home

Safely Home!