Dear God my creator
Why did you make me a riddle to children
A silent orator shaped in skies sands
And adorned with ghostly hat of lies
Tricking the world to the warms of women?
Why was I remembered
In the evening of your Let There Be
When Eden was already the map of the Serpent
And the heavens abodes of torment?
Why did you make me fair, white and black
And claimed you made me in your image?
Why did you plant my downfall, exposing me to attack?
Why did you curse me at the prime of my age?
Why did you cast me away into the land of rebels
And named another, your son, to die for me?
You let him walk upon the sands of sin
To wash the one you cursed clean?
Why did you forsook him upon the cross
Tearing down the curtain across?
Why did you make me a riddle to children
Tricking the world to the warms of women?
