The Righteous and Bold

I lack foundation in values and beliefs
And my morality is slightly askew
Or so I’ve been told
But would someone be so quick
To point out to me
The ones so true
So righteous and bold

In their hands, do they cradle fear and hostility?
Weapons so old, so old
Archaic and obsolete
But I cannot probe with these questions
For I am a heathen tainted by heresy
And they are the few
So righteous and bold

Is there such high demand
For faith to be cast in mold
For those who choose to stand
And not fold
Become martyrs for no one
Rather sinners as told
By the ones so true
So righteous and bold

The ones they ignore
To die in the cold
I implore
Are the wicked truly
The bastard son, the witch, and the whore?
Are they to die
And nothing more
For their faith they have sold
Or so it is said
By those who deplore them
The few, the true
The righteous and bold

Is there no savior for me?
My faith I still hold
In hands once filled with fear and hostility
Am I to be finally free?
Reclaiming my liberty
Only to die in the cold
I can only accept that that is the fate
Of the ones who remain
Indeed in blue hue, the few indeed true
The righteous, the bold.