WOE WOE WOE

In the still of the night, the heavens cried, An angel soared with wings stretched wide, Her voice like thunder, loud and clear, A warning to the earth, to those who'd hear

Woe, woe, woe, to the world below, The trumpets will sound, the winds will blow, Three angels' voices yet to call, A tempest to rise and shadows fall

In the midst of heaven, she did proclaim, The prophecy of fire, the curse of flame, With tears of sorrow, and hearts of dread, She called to the living, and to the dead

Woe, woe, woe, to the world below, The trumpets will sound, the winds will blow, Three angels' voices yet to call, A tempest to rise and shadows fall

Hear the echoes, feel the dread, Of the prophecy that lies ahead, A cry for mercy, a plea for peace, Before the storm, may it never cease

Woe, woe, woe, to the world below, The trumpets will sound, the winds will blow, Three angels' voices yet to call, A tempest to rise and shadows fall