Around the clock
I sit whispering hopeful guidance
Hoping you will not dissolve my memory
thrown up high and dry by your turpitude.
I have become a name;
I am part of all who I have met.

I am no slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men
And never will I die like death shall.
You have the key to this life and
I might be the last twist of the knife.

My fruitful purpose holds
to delve beyond the earthly temptations
But I’m made weak by sin and hate, but strong in will
To guide, to protect, to lead, and not to fail.

I am your Conscience.