Can you hear the sound of the birds this overcast morning. They sing not of love, but send us a warning. The oncoming rain brings oppression soon pouring. Their joy they have borrowed...the truth is...their hollow...soon they'll be soaked in their sorrow. The storm clouds are thick and large in their size My sheep have discernment, but they have no eyes. Their love for their ways have them trapped in a camp of internment. Not for freedom they wait. Their demise they have earned this. So listen My church that's afflicted and beat they speak to you lies and in innocent blood is their seat. So heed the sound from the mouth of My birds Ive done it like this because you hear not My words. I AM coming...quickly.... Repent or die...
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