Hells Acre - 4

Come gather ‘round young,
And I’ll sing you a song,
About how Hell’s Acre was born.

It’s not a long tale,
‘bout how mankind failed,
To weather the worst of the stom.

All over the sky,
No one really knows why,
A monster gale had begun.

It blew through the trees,
And it flooded the streets,
Until man had nowhere to run.

The lightning was red,
And it piled up the dead,
Who couldn’t survive without power.

And all over the earth,
In the land of our birth,
Mankind saw it’s darkest hour.

The nights had gone black,
And all men had gone back,
To the time before we could fly.

We gathered remains,
From the hills to the plains,
And saw our empires die.

Soon after the flood,
Drained away with the blood,
The sun rose over the hills.

The clouds disappeared,
Even worse than we feared,
And the cooling wind had gone still.

Now many years pass
And the land didn’t last
But the earth has gone through a change.

All over the plains
Where the white man once reigned,
We’ve lost that home on the range.

And now the sun beats
On what once were the streets
Where an empire rose and then fell.

And the desert has spread
As a grave for the dead,
And a new dominion for hell.