I will consume; Oh yes, I will
I will ravage; don’t doubt me I plead
I see blood even though the world can’t see.
I see death when life is what your preachers preach.
I feel it approaching, the consuming anger of the wind.
They want us in chains; will we allow them I ask?
They like us jobless; should we sit under their tables praying for crumbs to fall off their laps?
They thrive on our fear; should we not dare to take up the fight?
They like us fighting ourselves; should we not forge our path?
The world stands watching; waiting to see if we’ll get it right.
The helpless kneel praying; hoping we’ll neglect our fear.
The enslavers sit in dark corners watching; keen to see if we’ll bring our words to life.
The one question lies hanging: Who will bell the cat?
Listen to the whirlwind as it speaks in clear tones.
Listen to the whirlwind as it promises to sweep through and pull down their poles.
I will come when the eyes of the people are opened.
I will sweep through, visit the oppressors and break their stranglehold.
I will not come when timidity still reigns supreme.
I will not come when your voices are not united in tune.
I will come when your minds are made up.
I will come, I am coming, and they will fall.
Listen to the voice of the whirlwind as it promises to the oppressors death.
Listen, they say, or thy tongue will keep thee deaf.
The anger of the People will come as a whirlwind; it will cleanse, it will consume.
Listen; oh listen to the voice of the whirlwind as it calls out in revolutionary tunes.