A marred call

This is a mad call, A call for men who swim against the tide When the tide has no expression for clean conscience It is called mad by those who lack insight But today that mad call is marred. The pure is contaminated, The platform is soiled The house is polluted, Even the guiding spirits of our forefathers Are exorcised. This call is marred, Straight for the rocks? Or where is hope when a call becomes a shadow Yes, a shadow of itself? The caller forever means well But the called ate the fruit forbidden. My heart bleeds for this call, Ordained to soar like an eagle But struck down by the bug of corruption.