The Book of Revelation. It's in the Bible, depending on who you ask.
I sing, deluded mortals, of my dreams –
the woeful strain of this distempered lyre:
of seas of blood, and trumpet-tortured screams;
of War and Famine, Pestilence and Fire.
Of broken seals, and Judgement’s endless day:
the Beast unleashed, the lost denied a heaven;
betraying in each sign along the way,
my strange obsession with the number seven.
we’re not accusing you of telling lies,
or disbelieving owt that you proclaim.
It’s just… We wonder– don’t you realise?
that no one cares what happens while you’re snoring,
cuz other people’s dreams are fucking boring.