What if we mailed a letter,
To Matthew, Luke, and John.
That Mark had conceived a practice
Which would turn the world around.

To freely speak his mind upon them,
Faceless tadpoles in the crowd.
Just open your ears and hear these
Insightful thoughts through a speaker loud.

As he turned his mic toward her,
And grinned a smile so warm.
She often got too frightened,
Fearing his life in danger and harm.

But this was not a contest,
No beauty prize at hand.
The only thing he demanded
Was to introduce them to his band.

Of cheerful loving misfits,
That faught for truth and good.
To flip the frown from beneath them,
Just like any honest citizen should.

But to win over such an election,
Of justice, daft, and punk.
Would be to lift them from their tight knicked chains
And fill their lungs up til they are drunk.