My ears are wide open and my heart locked shut,
As I prepare for my morning in the lions den.
Let us listen as babbling births the prophecy,
That enshrines fears they have held secretly.
Moneychangers and soothsayers together forever,
Bring crowds of paupers paying for their penance.
Can I identify the pattern they attempt to weave,
From the outside looking in as I do not believe?
Sight and science are now stranded by the wayside,
As blind faith in this puppetry still persists.
For if their marionettes will dance on command,
What line exists between the saved and damned?
So blurred is their world of defined absolutes,
I have trouble telling the good from the bad.
As I cannot put faith in either Jekyll or Hyde,
I shall seek of myself by choosing my own side.