They say cleanliness is next to god, but those who prosper follow the tracks left in mud.
Born pristine, on a parallel wavelength, all is one. Told to go wrong, to fit in, to reach the next level.
Arms stretching, reaching for glory. Stepping on heads, hating those below me.
Laughing, ridicule, destruction of value. Man made standards, paper idols. Please give me value.
If Jesus is leader and Satan a demon, then who do I look to if my masters are evil?
And when my meaning is compromised and shoved in the dirt, why must I sin to replace my hurt?
Inverted letters. Darkened faces. The contrast of what’s pushed forward.
Although this can’t be it, I still lack a logic to morals.
