We’re all just cracked mirrors,
Pretending our reflections are whole
Throwing stones from glass temples,
Blind to the shatter in our own soul.

We shame the fire in others’ hearts
While choking on smoke we hide within,
Deal in drugs and damn the drunk,
Condemn the flesh but nurse our sin.

We gossip sharp with serpent tongues,
Then cry when we are torn apart.
We preach of peace, denounce the hate,
Yet tribal lines divide our heart.

We scorn the racist, yet embrace
The tribal pride that fuels our war.
We dress our guilt in silken words,
And call it virtue we adore.

What gall, what gloss, what bold deceit
To crown ourselves as saints of dust.
Who are we, but fading breath,
Still drunk on power, pride, and lust?

We bleed the same corrupted red,
Yet some parade it, some conceal
A theater masked in moral robes,
Where sin in costume seems ideal.

What a trick.
What a tale.
What a performance we compose
A goddamn lie in noble clothes.