The Gauntlet

I contemplate the Con's template:
Donn a Don's wardrobe and then tempt fate.
Robed in war they're robbed of a warning,
horny but shorn clean of the knowledge that we were born free,
Roaming like a lion for Satan,
combing for tikes who're tryin to upgrade their situation,
invade their heads with golden showers of power, money, and sex,
evade the bold ancient texts that flex: Humility, Poverty, Chastity,
Still, elasticity only stretches wretches so far,
Doggs fetch for cars below par,
We know stars are soft in their sketching,
and often don't live up to their etching
on Hollywood Boulevard,
Would they only sip the holy bowl of the Bard,
control the bull which dripped from the tiniest shard
of this century's finest poetic revolution,
and venture inventions free of "no ethic" solutions,
I challenge any disputant:
Hiphop's a mutant,
shopped originally as consciously enlightening,
it might be at the moment the most sinful component of society's pollutants,
I see kids in the subway substituting
substance for abundance,
prostituting the process of education with on the spot adjudication,
a Jewish nation's foundation constantly corroding,
constables contest the best of our morals are eroding;
My choral chant can't quite ignite all of Westerndumb,
but at least to calm the beast it puts a leash on the best of them ...

Chorus:

Haunted by a world controlled by dark forces,
Undaunted, we stroll forth to mark our course
A few souls saunter, countering our remarks' Source
I threw down the gauntlet,
You do what you want with it.

Click on the sick pick of the week city slicker,
As fifty streets flicker in the rearview
I fear you might have lost your hindsight.
Blind to the plight of history's forgotten martyrs
Cuz the killer's have gotten smarter
than dynamiting mighty dynasties of righteous folk.
The fight I'll provoke will leave the whole earth smoking.
Insight is a token inside the broken trains of thought
Restrained by the insane strain of vain domain names bought
to claim realty in virtual-reality or Real-TV.
I feel needy knee-deep in seedy CDs
And plead these stars beam me far past Pleiades.
I'm pleased to forecast they'll no more last
Than the cast of that last crass (crash) cash-cow cast
Into the pit when the ground split to swallow Moses' opposers,
Demandin posers follow the Ten Commandments.
And since then their scandalous abandonment
suple man's bent supplicant in lust to inanimate objects. (I object)

Chorus