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.