To those who would damn me to hell, weave a curse or that a spell. To those who'd forget my name, and wish nothing on my 'soul' but ever lasting pain. To those who say I'm doomed, that my crypt will be my ever lasting tomb. To those who damn me for using my ears, know that you bring only spiteful tears.
Do they know my only want? That I am wrong, and I'll soon have the answer that I sought. For I believed as they believe today, I simply heard no answer whence I knelt down to pray. I felt no spirit guiding my hand, all I saw was the empiricalism around the land.
So when you see one of me, don't think with some scheming glee. That you know the truth, you have your proof. Don't try to make us speak, if you like not what we'll leave in you if your faith is weak. Don't damn us all to hell, whilst you're filled with zealot zeal.
But my one only wish? That I'm wrong, and that I'm simply swimming the wrong way in a tide like a floundering fish.