Joshua Edwards Worship

S ong of Woe

The fifth angel’s trumpet has sounded,
Abaddon has fallen from heaven
And unto him was given
the key to the abyss
The sky which once shone clean and clear,
thick black darkness filled the atmosphere
Even the sun was choked
from smoke of the abyss
Woe, Woe

Stinging locusts were released,
make a man wanna die
but death just seems to flee
Breastplates of iron
with lion’s teeth from the abyss
Woe, Woe
Wings with the sound of chariots,
tails that pierce like scorpions
Power to torment men
for five months from the abyss
Woe, Woe

And just when you think that it is done,
one woe down, but surely two to come
Angel, the sixth speaks a sickening sound,
“Release the four angels Euphrates-bound”
Bound until the appointed time,
bound to kill a third of mankind
Fire and smoke and brimstone plague rained
upon the human slain

And even after all of these things,
the idols they worshiped they kept worshiping
The sinners would not confess their sins,
and turn away from their wickedness
The hearts of men are growing cold,
like Pharaoh and Egypt in the days of old
History tends to repeat itself I’m told