There's always a foe, ever a friend.
Always new beginnings, an eternity of ends.

Opposites aren't as simple as ebony or pearl.
But tainted both ways, an angels feather has its curls.

So less are they far apart, then are they foul twins.
One to help you when you lose, the other to kick you when you win.

One to tuck you in at night, the other to keep you up.
One sees it as half full, the other just breaks the cup.

Your actions dictate which man you are to follow,
But what may the difference be from heart of gold to one hollow?

Each man finds in himself capacity to know each creed,
While the twins wage wars of braun or wit, its I who will lead.