Have you but seen in the eye of the storm
The fury, the wrath, the chaos of the Lord?
He created, sprung from him-
the chasms of the oceans
the spitting fire of the deeps
the cold, bleak mountains,
the arid deserts of the east
As the serpent whispered its words of sin
Was it not a mere device,
A slave to the Lord's whim
As it slithered and squirmed in the dusts of Paradise?
Are we not what the Lord hath destined?
Cast upon us, chosen, cursed,
Etched in us the path of fate?
A bead in a rosary
A brick in a wall
A bullet in a gun?
