I fear not, as I fear all
When my dwindling God pulls his prophetic strings
To believe or not to believe
I ask no more, these empty things

I breath him now, so there is no doubt that he nor I exist
To see as real and know it so
Is the ultimate deathly risk

Cynical or true, the sky is blue
And this cannot be fraud;
for God is that, skinny and fat
He sees the world through you

Begin the lie and your final cry
Will bring you nowhere else;
But the gates of Troy,
The hard-knock ploy
That is the doctors hands

They reach out as if to offer life,
They hand out fear and love and vain
But take out hope and implant lie
And the constant naw of blame

So take flight, run and you'll reach the show,
Where actors will play
Seem real as day
Whether brother, friend, or foe


till you fall once more,
all knowing is what you'll feel
Then back to the doctors hand,
Where you will return again,
A tragic gem
And break the womb and seal