Hope

The temple of knowledge is tainted black, The enlightened river is flowing back. Integrity, honesty—under attack, Everything sold in a gunny sack. The future is lost, yet profit persists; Whoever resists is stabbed in the midst. We live, we rot, in this river of cysts, Where innocence drowns in greedy trysts. Is there no hope? I hope better not— If hope dies, still thought and effort we've got. We still have courage, the freedom of thought; If that counts for something, let it count for a lot. If paths are blocked, then bulldoze the way— Keep fighting, dying, living—whatever they say. Out of this massacre, we’ll find a ray: To the temple of knowledge—this is what I pray.