The subtle art of pretense mars the state,
of holiness alive at heaven's gate;
So proceed with precious caution if you dare,
cloaked in a banner sewn from angels' hair.

Beside the raging waters thus renewed,
a flowing arc of lies are heavily spewed;
With wasted moments sullied in contempt,
now all eyes open wide in grave dissent.

The face that amply covers its own style,
whether rows of tears or even robust smiles;
Falls away in bleak and haunted blend,
as fading images seek only to pretend.

The scorched and cursed mask of tragic scenes,
can quickly melt away in horrid screams;
While in the burning days of daring sun,
the guilty then repent for innocence undone.