You will have to find a way,
And it won't be done quite easily
No coin could help you
Just listen well to what they say
How many fingers do you see?
The light seems bright as sin
The guilt crawls back again over, out, inside our skin
You have to pick the best shining option when inside your pen,
The ink is your blood, and you're soul's the price you have to pay
Golden paths are not seen by eyes unsearching
Heathens never see the light