The number of the Beast is not 666,

Its the coming of age of man,

The end of childhood,

Time to enter the Jungle,

And leave the Garden Wild,

All of us a God of Child,

Truth is the burning Wild,

Hard core, never mild,

 

We are left to find,

Our souls, talent, mind,

And never again be treated Kind,

Leaving cold comfort behind,

For a fire that makes us blind,

Blue skies, Clouds that cry,

Each time we fail to try,

Hot sun, on the run,

Sin, Grin, and enjoy the life long begun.