I'm fickle, they say
Swinging like a pendulum
from elation to dismay
But I rode towards the sunset today,
While you all were screaming in the background,
Basking in the chaos of ignorance

Some smiles are plaster,
And some are real
They say to look at the eyes
Then you'll know how a person really feels
But I'm a soul inspector,
You see,
A student of the streets
It's not the outside that matters
But the interior, the base that makes something complete
For a pretty house can be built upon unstable ground,
But is it truly sound?
This is why we must look past the smile
Through the eyes,
Into the soul
--that's when we'll see,
and that's when we'll know
the things that are unseen,
and the things that are unknown.