He awakens to the soft, tangerine glow of sunset
Surveying the chaotic disorder of his room
Tangles mar his ever-fraying mane
Wincing at the sound of church bells
Peals that beatify his patrons yet terrify him
Manacling his genius in the holy name of the Lord
They burden his soul with the damnation of knowledge
Searching for discovery only to uncover hatred
He is free from simony & corruption
Beset upon by scandal & intrigue
Clergy brand him blasphemer
But for all of his brilliance
He would never prove
God the Fool

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