Close Your Eyes, And In No Time Flat, Straight To The Brain And That’s That!
That There Rock’n Chair
This ‘ain’t a bottle of rock’n chair brew
Tis’ wilderness wine, for the remnant few
A fermented brew, for David’s crew
Don’t sip like that, you’re not a bat
Sippn’ n’ lickn’ a system bloom
This here wine is wild wind boom,
Brewed to banish all system gloom
Close your eyes, and in no time flat
Straight to your brain, and that’s that
Poison FACT gas that in you let
Cursed dusty webby-inter-net
Swish, swoosh, house clean and set
Garnished, swept, with no more threat
A key on Hart’s belt named utility
Unlatched a door to perpetuity
A secret door in the veil of eternity
Time the tester, time the tempter, time the trap
Time prearranged to sift all system crap
Six thousand years we’ve been waiting
The last forty was in the making
Forty days, forty years, a time of great relating
The brew was stewed, our cups were up
Now’s the time for great elating
I pluck my Harp, to stir from slumber
My one forty four, much more humbler
Harper harping with His harp,
A new song sweet, yet razor sharp
Of many waters, from harpers harp
A voice of thunder…of prophecy
Of New Wine pouring, constantly
A time of turmoil, a time of stress
Man has made one hell’va mess
The call of David tis more or less
A song for comfort, or for their distress
Fly My loves, from summit’s nest
Fly with David, fly with Me
High above flesh mountain crest
Eyes on panels, and don’t you spy
Out that window, with your eye
But raise those shuttles, to our skies
Drink deep of wild wind waters, and fly
As eagles fly into the sky so high
Up to the beacon and there I’ll be speakn’
Through My prophets (Video), so don’t be creepn’
Away with the world, whose gonna be freakn’
A time of recanting, My few will be chanting
A time of remorse, cause you left your course
Taken back by discourse, of a mad pastors ranting
Up and at ‘em, My peculiar few
Don’t let that crew sit there distilling
Imbibing their system pastors instilling
No don’t let that crew, sit in their church pew
Listening to that contemporary grilling
Lamenting for sure, when I knock on their door
Too late My dear mate My lost paramour
I remember well those knocks on My door
Those hours together (Audio), My intimate lover
Now gone and away, with eyes for another
Come up here and sit on My knee,
The price of this ring was never for free
For anyone desiring to sit on the Kings knee
But not right now My honey Frau
Don’t give ear to those who say how?
Is it time to clean up the world and its crap?
Nay I say, for time’s is definitely up,
Yea I say, it’s time for the rap
To be laid fairly and squarely on Satan’s lap
I’m off to his city, to give a well-deserved slap
Then there’ll be time to go clapity clap
That’s then the time to give a pat on the back.
Listen to this poem in song (Audio)
Some vital Endtime Prayer Requests (Updated)