It’s not a bolt out the blue, all along they knew. They’ve always known. The house of god guiding the masses; a place of solace for the working classes. For some, the need was theirs. They suppressed and stole. Innocence and trust. An ungodly thrust. Don’t utter a word. Mustn’t bite the hand that feeds. But they fed off youth. Goliaths army fought the truth. Time ticked on, but it still goes on. Vultures in glass towers, asserting their powers. Towers are modern day shrines, for the likes of Bernstein. Invited underlings, young and unprepared. No doubt scared. Some fled and the others stayed. “They’re as much to blame; they wanted the fame”. It’s not that simple. Unguarded, alone. Frozen in place with a strong man invading your space. Cloak the dirt, don’t let them dare blurt. But the word is out. There was Polanski, Cosby and Saville. Lives did unravel. Penalise. Plaster over cracks in towers. Later 100 want to free Polanski, “He’s ours.” That’s the thing with the strong. They have a hold over you. Plasters don’t stick for long. What’s the solution, other than blaming the victim? The good and strong must speak out, restrict ‘em. For there’s more good men than not. That’s what I’ve always thought.