Standing steady through many a squall
One of the few beacons that show the mark
but unknown to the masses who stay clear of the dark
Alone, he begins his search for the mushrooming menace
He knows that the bad seed has been planted
But the herds of hopeless multitudes are convinced
that this is what some higher power wanted
No one is ready to walk in his boots
He burns the midnight oil while others slumber
Relentlessly he continues his pursuit
but is lost among the sheer numbers
Incredible it is that he's unabated and that
he hasn't been driven as mad as a hatter
He wants to respond to a faint cry of help
lost somewhere in the shallow, loquacious chatter
Misaligned multitudes don't care what he's thinking
They are oblivious to it, but the ship is sinking
He continues his search for the rare like-minded souls
knowing it's beyond him to plug all the holes
Possessed of qualities certain to astound
but lost to the apathy of those who surround;
like a lone wolf, he prowls around,
clueless whether he's the hunter or the hunted
