I’ll do what I do, and for publicity I ask of none.
Where are the thank you’s that my soul craves?
The acknowledgement I need to hear for a job well done.
I’ll keep functioning with or without your raves
for the work I’ve performed, my usefulness won.
Time after time I do the thing, herein secret love lies.
I’ll send you a notification only the creator of my magick would know.
I’ll identify myself, prove beyond a doubt that my power tries
to weave warcraft results that make up my infernal show.
And in public we all laugh about your power that my involvement denies.
I won’t do it for money, and I won’t do it for fame.
Do you think I think my bank account balance makes me better than you?
If you think ego’s a factor you’ve misunderstood the game.
It was never about a big show of my power, or public honours for what I do.
See, we united in harmony’s cause, and in this we are the same.
So take all the credit, for you did much yourself truth be told.
And my role and my people, this credit public must not currently be.
It’s not that I’ve surrendered to powers of this world order new or old.
It’s not about being publicly seen, but it is about what TPTB see.
My soul belongs to me, heaven but not hell see’s my power therefore sold.
The goal was never to expose the establishment for every bad deed though.
War is a wicked thing, and is ugly no matter what you can say.
It was about an important cause, a future I saw that humanity must not know.
It was about removing old timelines and replacing with a better day.
A silent hero, not a martyr, working in the shadows and this wordsmith will flow.
If I want attention I’ll choose it and tell you how to bring it to be.
So I do my thing in this Country or in that one; discretion is the name of this game.
Let them guess, let them laugh, let them doubt and mock the power that is me.
Silent work in the shadows, and the end goal is to see the exact opposite of fame.
It’s all about those silent discreet thank you’s that I want to see.
I have my friends, a secret power here untold and yet revealed in what they do.
Connecting together an occult nexus requires sharing credit due.
Let’s keep then a secret record, by the time you’ve verified we’re through.
Occult secrets of Asar and secrets and magitech, empower us and you.
The power we share, the secrets we keep, if only the muggles knew.
You can’t kill the undead, but you can try, and deny the secrets here.
Call all crazy who tell the tale of defeating me and my kin.
Come for the dogs of reasons that they die for a day, returning so near.
We’ll end this show with FTW, and For The Win.
You can’t destroy God’s chosen ones, call it the devil, my dear.
I’m what’s left, I’m what’s right, I’m the enemy.
The left hand of God, the right hand of Harmony, ambidextrous path.
Keep you in the dark, you know they all pretend, and you will see.
What if I say I’m not the pretender, well baby do the math.
If you need to know you can know, and if not then chose what you do with me.
See wrongdoing, and the doubters and mockers spread misinformation fear.
Fight me or support me, and in the end the losing side is not where I am at.
Like you can imagine dragons, swimming with sharks do you see the danger here?
You can join in with psychopaths and sociopaths, liars and deceivers they are that.
When it looks like the tower descends on me, I rise above like an enlightened seer.
Forgive me oh devils as my work exposes, separating church and state to be fair.
In the end muggles try to take me down, but the tower is my birth-card.
Destiny then is all about surviving and exposing my enemies here and there.
If destroying me is too difficult, a path of looking at your peers is not hard.
If this world lies in the hands of the evil ones principalities rule in the air.
I’m never forsaking my cause for the most wicked of child abusing crime.
If I struck a deal with the devil then justice and God must be on my side.
Let doubters and mockers and haters have their delusions about me in time.
Your skeletons in your closets hidden so well, in combating with me do not hide.
And like a wordsmith my poetry flowing does capture the essence of battle in rhyme.
The Magus: 56 