Superstition is a baffling rhyme
Twisting the moon in it’s own time
Sheltering ignorance while wising a few
Superstition certainly has it’s own tune.
Tongues wag as times progress
Maybe they’ll all have a regress
When the night begins to howl
And their children begin to prowl.
Wolfish ears and wild desires
Superstition watches from it’s tower
As chaos descends to devour
Young and old at midnight’s hour.
Its tune is yet incomplete
Some still have it to reap.
Shake your head at this warning
Superstition is watching this morning
Waiting until the full moon
Then she’ll come for you.