The fireman there dressed in black With a helmet hiding his shame They've hidden their words from ageless sages But he can smell their decaying pages
Spilled ink is old and unimportant they say It's contagious pages are flammable For one second he reads the ancient script Mesmerized by ghosts from the crypt
He collects the books to earn his paycheck Weeps silently behind his mask of lost humanity Building a fire with his blowtorch He's sickened by praise from his cohorts
He hangs his head in his pitifully gray home and remembered his grandfather's Holy Bible The hidden truth between the ancient lines Truth that hangs from a broken spine
The talking faces from an electronic scroll Hanging from the plastered wall Repeats lies between razor blades Invading lies buried within its rays
He keeps an eye on the glowing eye That surveys his every move The dark faceless ****** creeps into his life Even as he sleeps beside his wife
He closes his eyes in search of his Creator But He's hiding or busy or dead There must be others who search like me Who are praying for serenity