I’m sitting in the Kingdom Hall, my life I’m contemplating. I hear a prayer for the “Faithful Slave” and it starts me meditaing.
Your elevated state makes you rise above us “sheep”. You mediate on our behalf your rules we vow to keep.
Christ our Lord appointed you to lead us to Gods wealth. To question your authority is to challenge god himself.
Who are we to question? We’re your belongings, we are your dust. Without your guidance, commands and rules, who else are we to trust?
You are the “slave”, you nurse our needs, you make us strong and fit. Without the wisdom you impart, Satans world would be our crypt.
You are our fortress, you guide our souls, without you we’d be lost. We be just like the “worldly ones”, empty lives would be the cost.
And then I think about your past, the beginning of your power. What did you do, for god bless and approve of the Watchtower?
It started back in Russell’s day, with Pyramids and dates, the borrowed words of ad-ven-tists and miller and his mates.
When Russell's rapture failed to come, he was a disappointed gent, who’s legacy was stolen, by a tyrant with bad intent.
Rutherford, the “Judge”, saw the despression out in Style, with Caddilacs and Mansions. Wikipedia has his file.
He banished birthdays, beards and fun, he ruled with an iron fist, he said Jehovah guided him as his lies took turns and twists.
He told his followers they wouldn’t die, if they followed his every word, and took up preaching door to door, so the message could be heard.
A name was given to the faith so it would be noticed and not looked over, the membership delighted in being witnesses of Jehovah.
So I sit here in a meeting being told of the things to cherish, to become a faithful witness, so that I may never perish.
I wonder if those faithful ones who thought they’d never die, considered your broken promises, as their wasted lives flashed by?
Their generation, they were told, would see this system fall, a paradise would fill the Earth with plenty for one and all.
But alas they’ve gone, overtaken by death, their souls the reaper took, no longer under your control to sell your little books.
So what now? You know you’re wrong! How do you maintain your hold? We’re in an information age, where knowledge is better than gold.
So demonise the internet, label those who’ve taken flight. Use fear and hate and elder spies to keep the flock in sight.
Do what you can to stop the flow but you can’t keep every member, in seven years you’ll be exposed on the 5th day of November.