Hear the bells; they call your name
Ringing, and ringing, your life they claim
They carry to your mortal ears
A terrible soothing to unspoken fears.

Hear the bells; sweet death they cry
Inspiring wings so yet you may fly
Fly with wings, blackened with sin
And pray that the sky will still let you in

Hear the bells; ghosts of the past
Calling on judgment to rest them at last
See them quivering with noble cries
The last thing you see with human eyes

Hear the bells; those blessed bells
The song of ten thousand frozen hells
The song whenst falls stage curtains of black
The song that sings unto you, ‘No turning back.’

Hear the bells; then hear them no more
They fade to silence at three raps on your door
Enters the scythe of long silenced cries
Soundeth the wind as his sad song sighs

Push ye your sins under crimson-red water
Where they might wait for the scythe’s dance of slaughter
Descend from ascent into eternity’s shadow
Hear the bells,
son of unrest, yes--
reap all that you sew.

The End

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