The sick passion we have
Instead of practicing, we envy
We look at the arrogant one
Who brings us down
We scoff at his righteousness
We would love to call him out
Not to teach him his mistakes
But only to bring him down
His perfection: too blind in envy are we
To see his arrogance is that of his weakness
There could be fellowship in both of you
Yet instead we remain, stirring the tensioned brew