CULT MARKS

Back again, from the dead,

We slay sheep into the night

The people’s toll is up ahead

All wrongs are made just right

 

Take aim, scowl, and shoot

Behold a simple, servant class

Hope extracted from the root

Captured, in a dirty glass

 

Such fear of what to speak

A wave of changing times

No honor among the meek

The worship of willful crimes

 

A clever farce, a wicked game

Your silence is our strength

Molten minds for us to tame

We peddle lies to any length

 

Shout the creed and be as one

A collective blare of horns

All reason, be undone

Let liberty stain our thorns

Terrance McNeill