They do not know the right
They do not know the wrong
They do not know the dusk
They do not know the dawn
They do not know the truth
Though often it knows them
And when the hour comes
They will not know their sin
They know not why they live
Or whether they will die
To overcome this quandary
They hide it deep inside
The path they always walk
Has not a sound foundation
The sprouts of doubt spring forth
Through cracks in imagination
They do not know the start
Nor where they travel to
For the atlas that they follow
Is blank all through and through
But when a path is offered
They sneer and scorn and scoff
And on the aimless way
They turn and wander off
