I heard the call,
I heard the cry,
There’s trouble on the swirling wind.

There’s bombs and guns,
And evil folk,
A stench that blows and shoulders in.

I heard the call,
I heard the cry,
That evil has a face.

And so I push,
And so I rail,
Against the smiles, lies, and putrid hates.

And then I call,
And then I cry,
And raise a righteous hurricane.

Which people say,
Is stink and vile,
And that the face of death is mine.