Prophets

There's a height I couldn't reach

Though I bought the wings to carry me

There's a feeling never found

Though I bought the words to bring it out

But then maybe I was better naive

Maybe I was better when I couldn't see

I felt the water over me

A cold and lonely welcoming

Not a sign they said I'd find, nor the warmth of the sire's hand in mine

But then maybe I was better naive

Maybe I was better when I couldn't see

I have seen a friend-turned-martyr bleed

And for what?

For what a stranger taught to us?

With no authority to speak?

It's always the loudest who voice only their ignorance

It's always the loudest who voice only their ignorance

With no authority to speak?

The rock should be an anchor for the weak

Not this

This unfulfilling

This subtle guilting

A prophet of sympathy...

With no authority to speak

It's always the loudest who voice only their ignorance

It's always the loudest who voice only their ignorance

With no authority to speak?

And no sense in reasoning

Maybe I was better naive

Maybe I was better when I couldn't see