You make me weep with inspiration for the future
Kindling most gracious, refined aspects of souls nature
That instinct for a fearless future freed
Unencumbered by tyrants dictums wantonly decreed
Devils decidedly a slumbering breed
Who indulge only in darkling deed
To hurtful aims of lesser, callous soul devote
A sight which Mary saw and smote
Ferrying light to luscious babe
Through whom gods inspiration rage
You can throw dirt at us for an age
But we will wallow sublime, reading off hippie page
Fake heathens think they know the score
But they know not John's wild heart is irresistible to adore
Have they sense they would to John implore
For forgiveness, having ended their puppet wars