The Gate of Isis


From Wall Street to Main Street
To people with no streets

Blind with open eyes
They drive us into collapse

They grab all they can buy
Traffic jam in their synapses

4 degrees warming
No one is listening

If you open the door
You will find no floor

If you stay inside
A traitor is by your side

There are not ghosts left
On the other side of the moon

They catch the elect
And turn them into buffoon

The fool in his nest
Clasp the virgin’s breast

They infect the seeds
That could have redeemed us

And tell there is no need
To make such a fuss

The hand on broken swords
Here stand the few last knights

The garrison speaks no words
In the dead of this foul night

Bereft of strength
A wretched lot
Should sisters turn
Into harlots

Repeat the word Maya
And you shall find Yama

Truth brings living breath
Illusion shall bring death.