On the precipice of tears with nothing to note
Devoted an devout disgusting and remote
Dripping with doubt
blissfully digesting
All are little boys, toys that float
the men are resting
Guided goaded guilt ridden and betrayed
We have a future now to be made
Cleanse your mind of folly
Of your self serving doubt
For all will be revealed beneath
When unshrouded doth he come
Pronounced