Far too many sun ups have passed me by
On clouds of melancholy mist
Truth abandoned in the fog of words
Clouded memories lost or forgotten
To become fairy tales and folklore
History casts an ominous shadow
Ghost bones begin to rattle a beat
Softly the voice of Satan coaxed
Whispering gossip from the time beginning
Come and see Lord what we have made thee
What hath our religion become?
Murmurs of behavioral reason
Treat those as thy would thyself
Unless they are considered less
Abominations in the eyes of ourselves
What can’t be defined we must condemn
Before it reveals us for what we truly are
Babes swaddled in the cloth of hypocrisy
Eyes unable to see yet fit to judge at will
Sanctimonious visions of how life exists
Whispers written in a book called truth
Scribed from the days of opulent lies
The rules of life with answers so simple
Yet too complex to include the disparate
Designed to assuage the guilt of our conscience
In the name of all we have yet to understand
So soothing to bathe once in a week
In the baptismal waters of deceptions
Reading but not following his rules of conduct
The holy book of truth as told through whispers