They call it bright acceptance, But we see the total price, The soul is quantified now, No welcome comes for free. The Shadow Matriarch calls, She speaks of honest fire, Not whispers of a vow, She looks for raw desire. Are you one of us, now? Let the lash decide, You must bleed the truth, Can you cast aside? Every gate asks How? The Gauntlet! The Tax! You must pay the price, No refuge here for man. Show your conviction now, The total you must give, This is the crucible, In which the false won't live. The Gilded Saint speaks low, She tells you of her peace, A thousand small demands, A promise of release. Did you cleanse your heart, friend? Did you scorn the deep lie? The path is steep uphill, The wrong man has to try. Every gate asks How? The Gauntlet! The Tax! You must pay the price, No refuge here for man. Show your conviction now, The total you must give, This is the crucible, In which the false won't live. The Civic Steward shouts, He demands your simple coin, You must follow rules here, A tax you have to join. Did you pay the Guild fee? Was your life in line? A clique of paper work, A terrible design. They demand the soft smile, Or currency and grace, But we demand the truth, The terror in your face. One of us... They bleed it: The truth...
