But what I have is a brain and a heart,
And they’re equal parts evil and equal parts smart.
Morality is hard as it is,
When you know what to call wrong.
But in my little group,
The angels and devils switch roles all day long.
The little messenger of logic.
How could I not when his arch-enemy,
Is always caught in a hellish storm?
But sometimes, I do become a skeptic.
One with so much power can be trusted to go wrong.
I learn of the hideous torture, that’s been slipping all along.
Then, I’m left alone,
As if in the middle of an empty field at dusk,
With two directions I can take.
But I don’t trust the North nor South,
So I’m simply standing in the wind,
Hoping it doesn’t topple me down,
And ignoring the inevitable night.
Choice is a burden,
Greater when there is no faith.
I am aware of all the convenient lies told by the mind,
As I am of the selfish fears of the heart.
So when I choose my poison,
The fault will be all mine.