This is a sermon for the vermon. A song to draw blood

A finger in the dam trying to hold back the flood. We are down, but we're still not out

We struggle with faith in the face of doubt

So is it a crime to think that we've found something more sublime?

That we're somehow more alive?

That we're not just busy dying?

No coincidence, it's by design

Herded into a pen with the rest of the swine

Born to shine, or born to stand in line?

You decide

So you better step up to bat, before your dreams get hammered flat. (This is the sound)

Even when your ship has run aground

Don't let bastards get you down