The Gauntlet

November 16, 2009
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You said my mind was mine to keep
‘Twas knowledge your gift to give
I now know of kings, and functions cold
Yet still my heart doth weep

Run the race, play the game
You must finish all your work!
Find meaning in babble and fulfillment in pain
We’ll churn you out the same

Our image depends upon your sweat,
Our name, written in failures’ blood
And in the end, our dream is yours
A fate too many have met

What is thy purpose? You bade me ponder
What hypocrisy is this?
You tell me what I must, and set my hands to labor
Preparing me for what no man knows, in the ages yonder!

And in that office, that ghoulish cell
Counting the coins of Babylon’s Keep
Your soul is drained, yet coffer full
In that paradise which rivals Hell

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