I speak to you of my intent But intentions are eddies and whorls And they change with the course of a stream This stream becomes a river And a cataract of logic and doubt Who has the right to live? The light with the will to create me? Or dark with the will to consume? Sometimes might is right And sometimes the lamb must submit to the lion My convictions are tested My intentions now are fey and strange Should I pursue a pyrrhic choice? And rethink alliances? And choose a new philosophy? Right or might? Truly I do not know But you will, soon enough For this is where the cataract floods And drowns the boon of higher ground