Adorned with errors

We throw a 'fist full of air'
Into the temptous sky to relieve us of decades of pain.

Fighting an unconquerable battle of wits
Our focus shifts from character to gifts.

We abandoned our first love
Running after the next best thing
Goliath raging against Zionites, where is David? Where is the sling?

We employed mercineries - money mongers,

To soothe our damaged turso, to sing us a lullaby to sleep. Sleep has become an enemy too.

The ceremony of anarchy begins
Our necks on the pyre again
Same old tale. Same old tale.

Little children, hear this and hear well:
Tilt your head backwards, hold hands, arms akimbo, fix your gaze on the one who can lead you through the gates of redemption and walk you down the aisle of purpose.
You cannot make the same mistakes we made
If need be, don’t build on the foundation we laid.

Break free.