There’s got to be a reason

There’s got to be a meaning

For all this effort marked

By centuries of questions and doubts

I was blinded, turned deaf to speech

My hair turned grey, my flesh a rot

Every thought stillborn and my soul turned bliss

For I know nothing

The gods resented my plead

Thus I turned three hundred years old

Without having learned anything

All this pondering, it’s made me sway

All this to make out the one final question

I was blinded, turned deaf to speech

My hair turned grey, my flesh a rot

Every thought stillborn and my soul turned bliss

For I know nothing

The gods resented my plead

Thus I turned three hundred years old

Without having learned anything

In dark and lonely hours

I sought to find the heart of our creation

Never could I dream of what

I found by the greatest hexagram

For I know nothing

The gods resented my plead

Thus I turned three hundred years old

Without having learned anything

The thesis of God, the search for Magick

Made me at first seek, then bow to a truth I didn’t want to know

For I know nothing

The gods resented my plead

Thus I turned three hundred years old

Without having learned anything