They mouth their lies in calling now for peace
Who have inflicted violence without cease
And seek to glory in abrupt release
Of passions that they claim are all inborn
In them, though they lack fang and claw and horn,
And even those that bear them have forborne
To use them on their own more than they've not,
Putting them to their use when things run hot
And not otherwise, as is oft forgot.
But in the anger that informs them lies
The Stupid God, as should be no surprise,
And they think, fools, who do not it despise,
That none will mark their many acts of wrath
Or think they might prevail on such a path.
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