A dance of the lost,
The furtive and the lame;
Which highlights hidden costs
Within the limelight of fame

Which cries of young antiquity
In the most abstract of inquiry,
How could someone so singular-
Run the vastness of society

Sweeping eons under rugs
In the cellar of the world,
Where does the water come from
When the storm desires to unfurl

And when will we see the sun
In the days of darkest night,
Lit by candlelight of conspiracy
Whose causes shone so bright

In sweeps of cloud-ridden skies
Where birds have mastered winds,
Will we find our answers now-
That our greed has to win

Was it really all for naught
When the man on the moon was real,
And the dark was a mystery
That held back the human zeal

And did the heavens shine with fire,
When our wings were only imaginary;
Beside the form of Saint Icarus
Where we could safely lose our sanity

Where are the answers now?
Now that we know the lay of land,
And have figured out the mystery
Of the waves and the sand

Are we really any better
Than we have been before,
And forever after will we be
Waiting at the door

For our eternal salvation
In the hands of a keeper,
Shall we be the sheep of God
Or the slaughter'd of the Reaper?