That cloak of cloth on thy death
Has given heed to Satan’s breath
And in the seed behind the walls
The mind of man stumbles falls
From his trick of bearing conscious thought
He has brought about virtue’s rot
Instilling within the waiting soil
That loathing snake in his coil
Opened the eyes that were never closed
And love to hate was transposed
Yet the dirty waters grew
Causing humble seed to spew
Of hate and envy of covered breast
The master out for the ruling guest
From the cotton threads and clothes
That cloaked as beauty surely loathes
Of which the count he not possess
In yet the closet there is less
But still we see the horror play
Reenacting on each day
We hold which we thought as truth
That lie that was told in youth
To look with judgment of the kind
The color Lucifer’s tongue did sign
To hold within in our chest
That thought that will not pass the test
For in eager sinful fashion
There is none but man that has more passion