I’m afraid the masquerade is over;
You must pack your bags and leave now.
Don’t be sad — take it as closure;
They still think they’re holier than thou.

The rich return to their old ways,
Their customs brittle, cold, and strange.
They’ll tell you once again, "Eat cake," —
A stubborn mindset you cannot change.

The mask falls off along with the glamor;
Nothing remains but broken chandeliers.
The empty halls strike your face like a hammer,
And you long for the gateau and beer.

Outside, it’s a bitter winter,
And your faith threatens to disappear.
But the masquerade won’t let you reenter —
You hear a commotion drawing near.

Two people fighting, blinded by beliefs,
Living side by side in the same town too.
When will they see — it’s not a left or right breach,
But a battle of the top against the few?