So vaguely spoken,
Truth cremated and remade in the image of a new age.
Few boldy speak it and many squeak and creak behind cracks like critters so afraid to speak.
Some call it belief,
And so in their strife to be releived of the grief the truth brings,
They sieve, conceive and convince, until they create a rift.
Drunk in hate for the truth,
They try to redefine it in their own belief,
And end up getting sunk in the basest of state the rift creates.
So again I say,