All my pauper's baubles lay on a midden heap,
I cannot see the sunrise beyond the clouds that creep,
and all my gold horizons and the promises to keep,
are shuttered 'tween these walls until with faith I make the leap.
I wonder if the fall will be as gentle as they said,
I wonder if I'll drift to sleep if I call the world my bed,
and as I wonder someone softly whispers in my ear,
if you listen carefully the way will be made clear.
You do not have to throw away your hopes out with your fears,
You can wax triumphant and still keep what you hold dear,
Only one boon I ask of you and then you'll have your prize...
A standard contract for your soul and you will never die.
Your towers will push through the sky and touch the farthest star,
Your cities will be flawless jewels that Time will never mar,
And distance will be meaningless and Love will never end,
And you will be like Gods... you'll no longer just pretend.
But Sir I ask, will not this make me wicked just like you?
Won't all my hubris rise like bile to strangle me anew?
Oh, curse it all, mortality is too bitter a fruit,
I'll bind and gag my conscience and my soul will follow suit.
So it was that Man had made his final choice,
To burn the roots of humbleness and still his inner voice,
And as the day of Judgment grows closer by the hour,
Oblivious he drinks his health on top his Babel tower.
In short, we suck donkey balls and will soon destroy ourselves by cruel and unusual means.