We pray beliefs upon the stones
Where underneath doth lay our bones.
And woe to the wind, go with God
To chaperon the good and known.
We wail to glories sad silence
In utter faith and mad violence.
We kneel in brutal homage as
We spin the wheel of innocence.
It's devious Gods we have spun
Even made a God of the sun.
Gods and demons of hidden things
And then we conjured up but one.
But now we speak agnostic thoughts
For all that we have made and wrought.
Its challenge and philanthropy
And the blind justice that it brought.
But we can't seem to shun the stones
Where underneath doth lay our bones
We cannot seem to cede, just gone.
Nor can we seem to cede, just bones.
And it still does not seem that odd
When I whisper there, go with God.