Come my friend, its you, I know, that stands outside my Lake Chateau. I took a walk, just hours ago, and now I sit by this window. Please, my friend, I’ve something to show; come join me through the portico. Open the door – its unlocked, you know, and come share this fine, old, red Bordeaux.
There’s something that you need to see, to understand this sad world’s plea. There’s things outside that I foresee, things He’ll, sadly, guarantee. Do you see that burning tree? The wars, the death, black in the sea? The children who were slain by the melancholy and the man who was murdered for saying “I disagree?” Tell me, my friend, if this is what we should put up with without lifting our hands that are free.
I ask that again, you take a look at this place. Look out and observe all the hatred we face. Let your eyes fall upon things outside your safe space and truly grasp all the things that this world should replace. And let me say this, because just in case; its understood that people will always displace what’s right and what’s wrong but that’s no excuse – just disgrace.
A disgrace it is, that we’ve let this become a Hell for the most and a Haven for some. So few can parade, scraping up every crumb, as the patrons they need are left treated like scum. They measure one’s worth based on things, or income, and their vanity echoes like the beat of a drum. Come closer, my friend, you’ll hear irony strum, for history’s song is that the end always comes.
It comes at a time when they’ve all had enough, a time when they realize they’re not all that tough, the people will gather, strip away the handcuff and step forward with honor as they call their God’s bluff.
So let these words warn you, the ones of occult. Do the right thing, or face a revolt.