At first, I thought your gates were cleansed, As sense portal access to your soul But then I realized your motives pure Did not concern helping the poor But you made me swallow the whole As my light body was so thoroughly flensed By your butcher's knife of progression Eternal not ever regression of the soul that bore I know to you I know you say, I know I know I know But where is your ontology or say your proctology when it comes to your theology? One prophet when all men are psychic? I can see the future as well as you but that is not to say I can manipulate the future perfect Oh yes I shall have been Oh Boys Oh Boyd Oh Boyd