The Sophist

2016-10-26 12:00 am

Waiting for a miracle to save us, 
And we have saviors,
But they're controlled by secret agents, 
Waiting for a miracle to save them, 
And they have saviors,
But they're controlled by secret agents. 

His father wrote his epitaph, I know. 
He captured the hearts of the young and the old.
God given talent given highest awards.
He was yesterday's child,
So the day he got old...

Like midnight's stars he disappeared.
Fagments of influence rapidly spread,
Directing the youth of the afteryears,
But the man wasn't dead,
I can prove it,
'cuz dead mean don't sweat.