How sad when love for fellow man
Is scorned for its hypocrisy.
What times are these, when outstretched hand
Is spit upon indignantly?

Mankind is riddled with disease,
And storms are moving in the sky.
The ailing ones do what they please,
Unmoved that they are doomed to die.

Yet those who know the remedy,
And those who look to yonder clouds,
Are mocked for their audacity,
And are rejected by the crowd.

For reticence is much preferred,
And tolerance to honesty.
The populus has long concurred,
Let truth be what they say it be.