the fallen ideal

You seek here what has been lost
Yet know not of their price, their cost

To know the truth is to be as dark as sin
And to speak up is to suffer chagrin
So brothers and sisters I plead thee not
To heed the call of this generation’s errant lot

The devil will show thee many shiny things
And spout promises of what tomorrow brings
Be still, child, and forbear sin
And remember my words in the howling wind