The walls are weak,
And soon, crumbling, crumbling all around,
Raising immortal questions
Of the curious inexistence;
And soon, riveting every mind
With endless wondering;
With painful bothering;
For where might be the style;
And the mighty halo;
Claims and all you made?
Have not you come from the next generation?
Your voice existing mainly in the future;
And only resounding here in the past?
Is not your heart history; your mind mystery?
And your manner suave? Cool?
And your body, like Canaan cream, tempting?
Be warned, you must explain!
Oh, you must make right your wrong
For the weak walls have crumbled
And all of hell is loose
Your Daemons of Deceit, in their legions,
Slayed by cherubic warriors.
We are free and request you to explain!
Yes, tell us anew; swallow the lies
You are no master, you wily swindler
And we have fools been
Holding strongly with moral simplicity
Tell us this moment!
Give us a reason
And perhaps we’ll pity;
Perhaps we’ll make your death easy.