Craft your words so they’re divine,
Pull the wool over their eyes,
Call into the dark and find,
The world has left you behind

Afraid of what they’d all think,
Cause you’re closing in on the brink,
Afraid to call yourself the missing link,
As you empty out into a sink.

So unimpressed but incessant,
Never wrong so you just rant,
On and on about the incant,
A hypocrite who hates to recant.