By Last day's cause
I see the saints in their hidden building.
A man like them preaches
Yet no different from them.
Yet he has a title.
He has slipped back into conformity's grip.
Every Sunday like the one before
Tradition overrides the truth.
They have turned their sin into fame
And their faces I'll never see again.
Too much like their counterpart,
An evil twuin in disguise.
When will they come again
With truth's cause?
When will their iron-clad heart turn?
--Eon Dasent
tabletoftheheart@yahoo.com