Oh yes, well, you know I grew up in a cult…

I think that's why I recognize members easily.

You see, when chatting with a cult member, 

You think it’s all just a normal conversation,

Could be about the weather or your family,

But underneath their routine speaking line,

Is another language talking, a motivation, 

A coded message delivered right to you.

And cults operate first in the shadows of your mind,

They like to listen to you from afar before approach,

So they already know what to say to persuade you.

And that's how you know who they’re members are, 

They speak your words to you before even knowing you,

Swooning in agreement without hearing spoke opinion.

But my slow brain isn’t fully stupid, and I hate paternalizing manipulation,

Watching cult cloaks enjoy dancing with corrupt and incompetent power,

A pack of fat and lazy coaches, twiddling players around in speedy panic.

And these cults are desperately insecure to retain you, 

Electing the most dependent members quick to rank,

But holding back any that utter a word against them.

And if they really dislike you, they will keep up an attack,

Always trying to tweak you, so you fall into their traps,

Or you fail so they may keep you within their control.

But would they come talk to you like a human?

I doubt it, they don't care for that side of you...

A tweaked out mind is what they want of you.