This scales back a bit, recognizing the infallibility and disagreement, that disillusionment is the catalyst for understanding things differently.
lyrics
I send my many thanks
To the masters of good will and restraint
Well they rehearse
Such terrible verse
They don't scream or curse
But they know how to assume the worst
It frightens my slow soul
To light a pire, and leaving coals
To chill the bones of the wicked
I was not a slave
Just taught to behave in a certain way
But I've learned changes that became
The same thing every day