You know my name and claim to know my soul,
That wickedness shows plainly in the face,
Yet wicked parts do not comprise a whole.
There’re secrets hidden in the empty space.
Is it indeed the contents of a heart,
That tell a man if he be damned or saved?
It seems a sharpened wit sets one apart,
When others to hapless hearts have been enslaved.
You see my honest name as just a fraud,
But I will say this to you now in sooth,
That every soul is quite as dark and flawed,
In knowing this, my actions show the truth.
When aiming for a life of good intent,
A life lived in the light seems better spent.