Confusion.

Unknowing, I walk the streets of cold

if only we knew how to turn them to gold.

Flowers bloom in passing, the sun their call to sleep and waking,

if only we knew how to keep the in bloom, unbreaking.

Passing by I hear those who speak, yet have no thought,

How the devil loves the lie, the word which thought has wrought.

If only we knew how to tell the truth

The lies in masks kill; with fang and tooth.

See our ways of illusion,

It's God's wonderful way of confusion.

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