I am washed upon a rock, in a cold and girding sea
The sun is figured like a clock
It turns and hangs at me
May have to turn to god now, much as it pains me
Because science was just a staging post
And art doesn't set you free
And i never loved anyone who loved me
But i won't go back to Abraham, or the man from Galilee
Or the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)
Or any other three

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