A song played by so many,
Heard in infinite variations,
Violence and oblations,
Beyond our mortal stations,
The Triune of the universe,
King and Lord of all,
The worthiest source,
Insight into shining truth,
Warmth and life,
Enhances us into enlightenment,
The rebirth of fire stripping back impurities,
Oh the Triune, King of the Universe.
So many pray to be pluralists,
Hoping for pluralist babies,
Praying for purple Daisies,
Looking at the mobius strips,
Where to even start?
What wisdom there is to impart?
Looking through prisms at,
The bluest of contraptions,
Through Goya's mixed abstractions,
Picasso's representation of reality,
Worked our way down the path,
A room that cannot be found,
A path that confuses and confounds,
A sin of pride sung by the bride,
Are these the stations?
The death of our nations,
Is it the deviations?
Calvin speaks of pre-destination,
Disbelief in oblation,
Summaries above his station,
Where is he now, what is now?
Every seed upon a rock,
Every foundation upon the vultures,
Lacking stability to advise the manufacture,
Trapped in a catatonic daze,
Disguising the onward march of fate,
For when time will count the date,
Rue the day when we ruminate about space,
Amplified Polar neuron twitches,
Passing us by with bipolar switches,
Uncoupling and unhitches,
Welted stitches falling apart,
The fool now plays his miserable part,
I know there was a room I couldn't find.
Did it ever manage to demystify?
Is this how the events arrived and came by?
With songs played by so many,
Heard in infinite variations,
Violence and variations,
The Triune of the universe,
King and Lord of all,
That the worthiest source,
Insight into shining truth,
Warmth and life,
Enchants us into enlightenment,
The rebirth of fire stripping back impurities.
For you are my refuge and security.
