When was it, my friend, that honesty died,
Left to itself in the waning light,
Contorted in anguish
At the end of a rope,
As the sun sets forlornly in the east?

The truth is yet another victim,
Of this great society
In wretched decline,
While the grand orators brazenly
Sell their honor for gold,
Their taste for veracity growing old,
Dangerous youth increasingly bold,
While their grandmothers
Silently shake their heads.

What remedy remains,
When the ledger is measured
In victims and gains,
And the case for principle
Is honored by none,
Nobility achieved
By those wielding a gun,
And the lonely clerics
Once the barometer of truth,
Sing to the sidewalks
While remaining aloof,
For there are none on the planet
More completely alone.

And my lonely outrage grows,
For I, too, was once a liar like you,
Naming my station and treasures
Day by day,
But the truth of the Good Book
Outlasts us all,
The preeminent truth,
Pride precedes the fall,
And the loss of honesty
Is the first shoe to drop.

Courage, my friend, will sustain you
When first you bring honesty home,
For despite the humility which will follow
An honest man is rarely alone.
Like a warming ember
On the coldest of winter’s nights,
Friends for you
Like embers be,
No shiver of conscience,
Soul set free,
As you accept yourself modestly,
Gone the burden finally.

And an honest man
Lay down his head.