Every sunrise, a criminal gives a gift to the World.
The World wait’s till dawn to open it.

Some say that the gift is nothing but a fist full of lies
Spewing in and out from the corners of a child’s mouth.

Some say that, if One were to open the gift,
One would become tainted, and One’s name would become linked to “pillaged dreams.”

Some say that the Devil wants to see Us open it.
He wants Us to reach for the gift like apes who reach for money and weapons
When all they’re fightin’ for is to still their hunger.

Some say that to resist, One must focus.
One’s magnum opus must become united.
The Uniting will spur a grand celestial inception,
All directed by One,

But where is the data in what Some say?
Where is their protagonist?
Is the One like a dragon, drifting in and out of existence?
I asked the Some.

The Some say that the One drifts,
Nurtured by a human mother’s placenta.
They say that the One shuns socialization and sniffs glue.