in the halls of culture,
in the corridors of art,
(where concealed rites sepulture
are made on human heart)

in the schools of science,
the shrines of self-reliance,
(where they pay obeisance
to their paying clients)

in cathedral of academia,
the high churches of learning,
(where publication media
gains profession's earning)

in all these lobbies of power,
the chambers of government,
beneath the gilt and flower,
beneath false guise of betterment,

beneath the charm and splendour,
beneath the language tender,
there lies secret agenda,
for advance of pretender

there, steps are made of people,
and mountains from the crowds
and on the tops a steeple
pierces the greyest clouds

"how great am i
to look from high,
to rule the masses
from the sky"

but in heaven there's different plan
a different way to look at man
the steeple on the top is gone
all persons divine, one echelon

one step on man is a step on G-d,
and he who ruled, on Him he trod,
I little envy the position
of he who reached his ambition

to be the king of the castle
to tread 'pon spirits astral
to be a spiritual rascal
to attenuate the bashful

'the meek will inherit the earth'
of Psalms, thirty-seven,
is not a verse of mirth
but a law of heaven

for there'll come a time,
so saith this rhyme,
that deceit'll implode
before sacred code