In this human trust we say...
Never does it fail
They lay in our hands
Each with their fingers' own tiny grasp with all that it entails
These are the binds which tie and ceases a life now different, other than this story about to be told
Yet, it is to look within our humanities with consequence, which never, ever should one suppose
Sometimes a conscience kept becomes this sad, sad book
Now standing tall,
Open to within the width of its oppose
With its pages weeping, openly bleeding, pouring out while bloodily red
Forever inked and indelibly set in color wept,
Yet, never having forced to disclose
Still, a smile is a smile, a reward that masks all risk
As it's hard to deny what is hard to resist
So we give in to a trusting of their moonlight hire
For these are the masters in the art of deception and our desire
So, hush, hush, oh sweet child of mine
Tonight we sleep warm within our given circle of fire
Is this right or is this wrong - our conscience by design?
In answer... Have you ever had always known the lyrics...
Yet, had never sang the song?