Demons lurking in the dark
While kids drive to the park
Taking time to wine and dine
There’s no more cross to line.
Hacking bridges, burning trees
No one listens to the pleas
Of preachers or teachers seen
As corrupters in between.
“In between what,” one might ask?
“There is no such thing to mask.
“Speak ye truth or make thy bed;
“Hell, just get it on ahead.”
None can foretell nor foresee
What ag’ny ‘waits those with greed,
As death creeps its shady way
I say, pray friend, you must pray.