For those that past is not history but a mystery
Anything that can’t be explained a miracle
At the drop of a hat those who are ready
To confer divinity to reformers of the past
But are ready to punish and instill fear of death
On the followers of reformers of modern age
Heretics and hearsay if you question the past
Are we to believe that everything modern is foolish
And ignore the witch hunts and killings of the past
In the names of the divine and almighties
Fie to those for whom the past is a crutch
To crush any discourse and dissent
Fie to those who will not leave any stone unturned
To keep humanity shackled in fear of an all merciful
Past has becomes a tool in the hands of the powerful
To keep legions in line as blind followers
Reformers, yes! Enlightened humans they were.
We the ignorants put them in pedestals
Covering our eyes with religious blinds
Walking hobbled in our daily life
Looking for a saviour to save our souls
While the merchants of death
Paddle the past as pillars of faith
Fleeting Muse 