The Society Mystery

The Society Mystery

It is
all a
mystery

The Society
cooks up
a recipe

Every day
for every
one

Sometime
it’s the
cake

And the
others, a
wafer

Where does
it come
from?

And where
does it
go?

It’s all
a whisper

Doin round
the ears
of walls

You grow
up a
fine man

Tryin to
find the
whip

In your
hand

Peepin into
every home

And into
every book

A day
comes

Everythin comes
back

Like a
cannonball

From the
naked gun

Caution: This might be all theory

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