The Sound Of The Trumpets

Oh, I feel the angels singing....
I don't hear
But I feel

I feel
In each hair on my arm
The chords upon the clouds
Reciting my name
Echoing for all the paradise

I hear the run of the Horseman of Death...
I don't feel
But I hear

The steps that it lefts
Whips all the land
And where it stomps nothing grows anymore
But it doesn't matter, no one ever burnd there.

He becomes cloud
He covers the sun
His shadow is the perlude of the nightmare
-Oh,but mine is over.
However, I didn't wake up yet.

Why I don't woke up already?
Perhaps I have died in the dream
With that sickle falling like a sound
The sound of the trumpets.