The Dammed
The Skeptic,
With his torch and its light, which seems subdued
On my knowledge he will scorch with a true, which tends towards lying
And condemns me into dyeing in due course
The Scholars,
They tend to turn what could be true, into lies which best unlearned
And take the knowledge of the ages twisting it to empty pages,
only fit to burn
The People,
Oh how they follow, down their streets and in their churches,
only lead by something hollow, is it dead, staunchly waiting, cold and empty, calculating
This I pray not so.
The Masses,
Like stubborn asses, do not love, the one above, but keep crying while denying
that they killed The Peaceful Dove , and This bring them to disaster,
serving blindly, their evil Master
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