God wins.

Ill-dippin', cloud-equippin', sight-spittin' phenom,
Squelchin' waves with a blaze that doesn't die with the dawn.
He makes wolves lie with the fawns,
Brings back the dead when they're gone,
Flexing His brawn, crushing all injustice,
Yo, He's never been wrong.
Even His weakest is strong,
The meekest wait, for His coming is never too long,
By the word of His power upholding this planet we're on,
Until it's time for the song,
As from the hearts of the saints His praises prolong.
No more cries for judgment will spawn, It's done.
Like a theft, with the offer withdrawn,
He was but casting for a moment, but now His show goes on. He won.