My soul hunts cheap justice
Over the plains of carpeted floors
Beyond the savannah of desk chairs
Away from the huts of curious minds
and the shine of polished nameplates

My eyes seek cheap justice
Looking to the sea of masked faces
A mountain of guilt stands in between
An avalanche of shame crashes down
Forcing me back to my silent retreat

My heart finds cheap justice
in a kind word, or maybe four?
Or in an arm around the shoulder -
Maybe a smile as wide as the Amazon.
Priceless for me, an expense of your gesture.

If your Gods were just,
you would be the one penning this

And I would be blind
And I would be deaf
And I would be numb
To your flavour of bitter bliss

Honestly, I was never your enemy
Sadly, you were never my friend
Foolishly, I placed my trust in someone
For whom I was a means to an end