I think you are under threat because you threaten others. You don't see a way past this and you love your lives too much.
You love your power too much, you love your comfort too much. You think of yourselves first.
Rain down fire, no, but you do. You wish to control the heavens, and try to, you do.
You don't like not by power, not by might, or by my spirit. Your rules do nothing to overcome your flesh, except in the literal, which is not always successful.
You want it all, but you cannot have it all. You cannot see the wood for the trees, you cannot hear, even if you wanted to.
God loves, god purges, occupy, set free. Set it up, break it down, as long as you get what you want, then nobody gets hurt.
Conservative vs liberal, you can't see any other way. You are over joyed when things are in disarray. Peace and love and everything else, move aside for He has arrived.
Your throne is built on enlightenment and progress, your spirit doesn't bring redress. Only regress. To lead into all knowledge and freedom, only as long as it is encapsulated in the boardroom.
Dissent and confusion have come, and now He is to bring it together, with all His birds of a feather. The end is nigh, but only if you're bad, and we'll decide on that.
Ambiguity and uncertainty, makes you question which side you are on, and which side is He on? Who will He support, who will He re-hell?
The poor shall not inherit the earth, that was all a lie. The meek and gentle to be swept aside, in the tide that is godly and good.
Sheep and goats don't matter, I said the prayer that gets me past Peter. My gold throne awaits, alongside his majesty's trumpet. If only the others weren't such Muppets.
Apologies Jim Henson, it's just I can't help but dislike Brexit. Was there no other way to exit the fear and hate that was stored up in my farage, May's johnson is long and distinguished, but for heaven's sake, don't leave him where he is for long!
There's no need for speed, or being maverick, just a desire to hold together the fabric
Of self-sacrifice and love, which go hand in hand, just ask the bishop of ampersand.
We cannot let go of our lives, for in our world of individual it is our only stock, no desire to trade, to let it be taken by the invisible hand.
Our discontents are many, we seek to find a cure, but lure the evils within to help us make things great again. Such folly we eat for breakfast, but sour milk and spoiled honey will be our everlasting last supper.