The Madness of Crowds, reprise


In gathering gloom we keep our fast
In gathering dark, we pray for the last
Of plagues, of lies, of freedom denied
And telling of votes deliberately lied.
 
Whence came this pass? How could we allow
Stilted reporting, unmasked now,
To lie to our faces, and yet still go on – 
As if it’s normal, and unremarked on?
 
The hand of the Enemy is heavy on all
That passes for truth, the Demos enthralled
To bread and circuses. It falls to the Few
To keep in mind the Beautiful, True 
 
And Good, to keep in our hearts
The Logos incarnate, whose word imparts
The only sure good that ruled in times past,
Which in His good time, will be sure to last.