I know the secrets and I may not tell
you what I know, for fear that alien eyes
connect the dots to fact from pure surmise.
The penalty for speaking is pure hell;
we must keep silence, enemies repel,
lest our great acts the multitude despise.
Facts are protected with a guard of lies;
I speak no truths, they have muffled my bell.
No one who speaks, I say, can truly know
all that we understand about those folk.
I speak with kindness, I could not be cruel
but nothing I can say could make things go
any better. The fear of foreign yoke
requires that on the fire we cast more fuel.