Forrest Frank - JESUS IS COMING BACK SOON Lyrics

Video

Forrest Frank & Josiah Queen - JESUS IS COMING BACK SOON (Official Lyric Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

Forrest Frank has a knack for packaging eschatology in the aesthetic of a Sunday afternoon nap. In "Jesus is coming back soon," the production leans into that relaxed, lo-fi groove that’s become his signature—a stark contrast to the urgent, somewhat jarring reality of the lyrics themselves.

It’s interesting how he starts by grounding us in the mundane rot of modern existence: "Scroll a phone 'til we're sick in the head." He isn't preaching from a pulpit; he’s sitting on the couch next to you, doom-scrolling, acknowledging the collective nausea of our digital habits. It’s a clever entry point. By naming the lethargy of our current moment, he creates a tension that makes the sudden shift to the Parousia feel less like a fire-and-brimstone warning and more like a necessary awakening from a fever dream.

When he sings, "We're all throwing stones 'til somebody is dead," he’s pulling directly from the tension in John 8, where the religious elite were ready to execute judgment until Christ intervened. But Frank updates the scenery. The "stones" today are tweets and hot takes. It’s an astute observation of how we weaponize outrage while waiting for the end. He’s speaking to a sub-culture that is hyper-aware of the world’s decay but feels paralyzed by the screen, trapped in a cycle of judging everyone else until the culture itself feels like it’s collapsing.

The song works because it refuses to be heavy-handed, even when the subject matter is the literal end of the age. There is a distinct "vibe" here—the drum loops are warm, the synths are hazy—that keeps the listener from feeling cornered. Yet, the question, "I wonder what we'd do if we knew," hangs in the air, sticky and uncomfortable. It forces an inventory of your own life. If you actually believed the timeline was shrinking, would you still be staring at the blue light of your phone?

There’s a shift toward the end: "If every knee's gonna bow / Why not here? Why not now?" It’s a riff on Philippians 2, but he turns it into an invitation for personal surrender. He isn’t just looking at the horizon for a celestial event; he’s looking for a change in the immediate present.

I’m left wondering if the "vibe" risks diluting the weight of the message. Does the lo-fi warmth make it too easy to hit repeat while remaining exactly as we were? Maybe. But there’s something unsettling about hearing a song this chill, this breezy, confront you with the reality of your own mortality. It feels like someone whispering a hard truth while you’re trying to ignore the alarm clock. He doesn’t have all the answers—he admits we don’t "know the hour or the day"—but he’s signaling that the clock is ticking, and somehow, the beat keeps going. It’s a strange space to sit in.