Good Lord

Periodic interpretations of a holy ghost
Greedy critics tell us what we should know
When the truth is locked up, hidden far away
Behind open library doors the books rot
Remember the past or rinse, repeat, then deny

Welcome to the truth
It adapts to any lie
Born of a system
Which itself is a crime
Blame your neighbor
As you compare details of life

The press blesses the undertow
With perpetual decadence of negative news
Garnishing their greed with positive feedback
Rave reviews of neglected malnourished children
From negligent readers who perpetuate the crime

Welcome to the truth
It adapts to any lie
Born of a system
Which itself is a crime
Blame your neighbor
As you compare details of life

I whisper secrets never hidden
But consciously forgotten
While as our comfort passes away
We claim ourselves the tragic victim
As we await some lie to become truth
That will renew the economic systematic
In hopes the crime-frame is a time not far off