Fatalist

Though we later may walk In a valley in a shadow of death What should we logically fear? Perhaps the complacent urge for a deity To make us whole and guide us through To fulfil an image that is cloudy at best Where was the help previously When appeals went unheard? Huge effort expended in devotion For nothing in return Grimly clinging, predetermined To prop up an image that is cloudy at best Resigned rigid, predetermined To covet a vision that is forced on the rest Life becomes an exercise in cutting down your options Existing becomes a joyless parade to the end Life becomes a platform from which to attack free thought Existing becomes a prison where self-discovery's forbidden The fatalist The fatalist Any fool starting afresh would surely ditch this After two-thousand years of schism Only irreligious hearts can do the saving Life becomes a platform from which to attack free thought Existing becomes a joyless parade to the end The fatalist