I write Poems every now and then, here is one of them.
The Air is Ripe
by Master Ride
The Air is ripe, the trees are still,
a peaceful day atop the hill.
But what they do not know,
Is what God is about to show.
On top of the quiet hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees are still,
the ground, it shakes, panic is amight,
For they all know, tonight is their last night.
Now, on top of that hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
The ground splits open, the hill is now two,
They will all die, no matter what they do.
They run screaming, on top of the hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
They try to escape, they run down the hill!
but then Mother Nature begins to kill.
With the ground shaking around the hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
no one where is safe there,
the ground down there begins to tear.
Around the bottom of the hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
People run and try to escape, they want to live another day,
But God has other plans, he will have his way.
The ground around that little hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
The ground, it breaks, and they all fall,
Then the ground goes back together, and the trees stand tall.
by Master Ride
The Air is ripe, the trees are still,
a peaceful day atop the hill.
But what they do not know,
Is what God is about to show.
On top of the quiet hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees are still,
the ground, it shakes, panic is amight,
For they all know, tonight is their last night.
Now, on top of that hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
The ground splits open, the hill is now two,
They will all die, no matter what they do.
They run screaming, on top of the hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
They try to escape, they run down the hill!
but then Mother Nature begins to kill.
With the ground shaking around the hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
no one where is safe there,
the ground down there begins to tear.
Around the bottom of the hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
People run and try to escape, they want to live another day,
But God has other plans, he will have his way.
The ground around that little hill,
where the Air is ripe and the trees were still,
The ground, it breaks, and they all fall,
Then the ground goes back together, and the trees stand tall.
