Whisper of An AngelI see Evil from the Ground through the Earth all aroundCrimson blood on the mud, viscous dust to which were boundSinking, sinking, evermore, in this quicksand of quick lifeHate and lies, thrill demiseTruth be told a falsehood moldSinging sirens on the island of Television, subconscious mind-landReeling in, dealing sinHe will win, if we give inSell our souls, for fame and ginPleasureBritneyin place of kinThe opium of the masses, is not God-hopeBut is a dope of the dry throatWorn and poachedBy the RemoteChoked and ropedBy the Black SmokeBut revealed in The True HopeThats invoked by a new Scope