The hands of time,
The sands of time;
Which one would you choose?
Would you control
Your own Direction?
Or let the Furies’ Winds Unloose?
If you choose your own Direction,
You had better choose it well -
For the Furies’ New Direction,
Their compass can still tell.
And when you’ve seen their Tempest,
When you witness what they do,
You will cry out for Protection,
But it is not promised now to you.
So choose your own Direction,
And hang cloth upon the mast,
For I sense an Insurrection
That will arrive too fast.
And if you heed my Warning,
You may just be spared yet,
But do so at the Dawning
To better hedge this bet.
And when, at last, their winds blow,
You will feel upon the breeze
That this new kind of Tempest
Will sink you to your knees.