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clothes make the man, the new man thinks
the old man thought the same, they are both wrong to a degree
comfort is found in the rags leading to mummification
leaving both men rotting inside, albeit for totally different reasons

it's really hard to blame the new man, for he strives nobly
his striving is vanity none the less
his target is all wrong, it's not what's best
he should still know better than to be duped

the emperor's new clothes come to mind
as the enlightened scratch their heads & whine
why don't they get it? why can't they learn?
comfort in 1's own skin is the only true turn

yet, the new man presses on, destined to fail
he's as blind as a bat, too bad the books not in braille
the answer is plan & simple to see
new man refuses to believe that that could be all

so many fall away or refuse to come
they just can't live a life covered in the new man's rags
i can't blame them either
i found them about as comforting as bandaids for bypass surgery

what's left for us? what's left for the comfortably naked?
we try & sit among the clothed fools on this sinking ship
stomaching judgmental glances while biting our lip
all the while longing for change, other's awakening

we are to be slaves, for this is definitely true
surely His provided liberty is to be found by more than just a few
of the 2 million that left the sand
those who suckled milk & honey #'d only 2

maybe this is the way it's to be?
to choose new man's rags or a very bare existence or no existence at all
as for me i've found comfort, grace & a very raw redemption
i've finally found my true self, my true call

this degree by which the clothes the man makes
is now very clear for me to see
drop the rags new man, drop them now & see
how the cloak of Providence fits nicely, having earned it on a tree

awaken new man, awaken now would you please?
you're missing all the fun, grace and beauty
all the many things Providence has for you to see
all the things this life of liberty was meant to be