In the lands I'm born, only known to those
Who've tamed the seas and plundered gold,
Who've peered with death on ferry's shore,
Who've lost their chance to spell what's known...

But, if a speck of their vision's spelled,
They'd rob those spells, and spell themselves
Whole accolades! On a visage,
that had enchanted them! On a visage,
that burnt like books within their hearts,
or souls, or whatever more
you might just have!

Then your ego-freaks'll take those spells
Spread to peoples them! Exploit them!
scream across the town:

"Save thou child!" (or "las enfánt!",
If that was something too low-brow;)
"It is down there...
In the darkness...
In the pipeline...
Waiting...
For the day to reveal Itself!
When it'll break our hollow glory,
And bring shame to all our past!"

Thank Heavens! and the lot that noticed
By whom the posters have been posted...

Yet still, it didn't matter
what apostles said,
How your wisdom's been corrupted
by demons doomed to grounded damnation—
You still go and shove ballots down the drain
You call your “liberated nation”...

In the end,
If you did dare to take a proper look,
If you shed the carapace of naysayers,
Past the smoke and mirrors,
From the grunge depths, reflected back,
through lense of eyes, into your mind,
You’d receive a Single Divine Truth:

if you do see me
you'll see nothing but a kitty
passing by quickly
so silly :33