Gods are made of men,
And flimsy things are they,
Just ask Zeus, the king of them,
Or Apollo of the golden ray.

Ask Poseidon, wave ruler for the faithful,
Or Hades, the distant kin of flame,
They’ll tell you then that men are hateful,
And put their faith to shame.

For Gods of men are powerful things,
Ruling rightly so,
Yet live and die in songs we sing,
As our whims will ebb and flow.

Yet just as strong and remembered still,
As those that we now know,
It was not so long since for them we killed,
Yet now they do bow low.

Why is it then that this king won,
And took with him the right,
To dictate men and send a son,
To represent the light?

Passing crown down through the years,
From one king to the next,
Appeasing men through faith and fear,
Until they’re rightly vexed.