And the forensic psychology is strong with this one today.

Wanderer, I can help you, give you the meaning you've been looking for.

Lost child, I can help you, give you the home you've longed for all your life.

Outcast, I can help you, give you the companionship you've always craved.

I can give all of you the world,

But not without strings attached.

You're with me now, your new God,

And with no hesitation, you throw yourself at my feet.

I am a mortal, but what stops me from being a deity? My legacy will live on,

Live on in followers who worship me,

All for an offer that I will never fulfill.

And you— you'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?

If my words slithered into your mind like the sibilant hiss

Of the serpent of Eden,

You would beg for a taste of forbiddance despite repercussions,

Just because I asked it of you.

You would lie to an audience of thousands,

Stare down the barrel of a police officer's gun,

Walk out of a store with your arms dripping with stolen jewelry,

Stand over two bodies, shoes soaking in their blood,

Even though deep down you know that I'll hang you out to dry.

You would die if I asked, kill if I asked,

All of you would, and I rise to new heights,

Borne aloft on your desperate pleas to serve.

And outsiders may be wondering how—

How a shepherd who throws lambs to the wolves has attracted such a flock.

Well, I'll answer:

I proffer what everyone craves,

A home, a family, security, the truth,

Even just the ability to let go, let someone else lead.

I bear all of their burdens and weigh them down with my expectations.

So now the world knows me, knows what I am; perhaps it screams for retribution

Even as the lost cry out for my salvation, but neither will come,

Because I am full of empty promises and shielded from justice by my flock.

And you, my followers, my lambs, you've always known who I was,

Just not how to free yourselves from the shepherd's crook.