Inner peace of sacred mind. Spirt bound of countless time. He knows no bounds to what he thrives, he knows no mercy to my vines. He takes and does not give no line, he waves his hand and throws his wine. I dare not gaze upon his eyes, he glares of hatred, my tongue is tied. I know no words he speaks his lines, I know no way to meet his size. Over shadows he glares me down, above my collar he holds his time. Dare he speak his words of false truth. Dare he cast his useless fruit of bitter taste on bitter tongue. Dare he stare me down in hate, with witness eyes behind windows pine. Dare he point and snicker loud, dare he sing his pride aloud. Religious hat he seals his crown, but behind his feathers he strikes me down. His words of swords, he dares to pry.
I know not of this man, I know not of his ways. I know not of his wisdom of false face. I know not of his hands, he has no touch, his voice is silent and his eyes are blind. I do not know this man who stares, who cuts me down and points his prize. I do not know this man, not I.
Tricky tongue of saucy hands, his hair grows long and his shadows fade. He paints his portrait, you force your gaze. This man is not who he claims to be, he is not your friend and not in faith. I do not know this man, do you?