Pharasee, pharasee,
how far can the eyes see,
one hand in the pot, the other pointing at me,
don't steal from the works I plead,
prosecute the man withholding his own seed,
the tongue truly bleeds,
careful what lurks at it's tips.
How sweet it must be,
to have seen wisdoms keep,
but what a tragedy,
to be deaf to his speech.
Being blind with a speck in mine,
can I still call to the truly divine,
true wisdom was found when love was mined.

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