But Honestly What Do I Believe Poem by Mark Heathcote

The devil looks after me
He doesn't forsake me
Like an elder brother, he might taunt me
But he promises to love me.

The devil he's cut off… lowered his horns…
He's curved his wrath of fire
The devil he's taken on all forms…
Yet, he's promised to chop-down every brier
That gets in my way. Starting, from, yesterday.

With a larva hot bubbling heart, he loves me
Like an arctic bird, I've learnt not to be piteous…
The devil warms my bones, he loves me
He wants my soul for wheat, not pumice.

But honestly, what do I believe
But honestly, what does he conceal to conceive
But honestly, what do I believe…
Will happen when he threshes the wheat from the chaff
He's the devil he is a liar he is a thief,
He wants only to hide our imperfections under a cloverleaf
Take away our beliefs so wolves and jackals can all laugh.