I'm not the one who's making decisions
Avoiding blame with expert precision
The shop is closing, there's nowhere to go
You shouldn't be speaking with those you don't know
Next to the aorta, it starts with aborting
Emotional blackmail, confidence extorting
Shuffle the bricks and polish the mortar

You're selling words for cents on the dollar
Whispering in tongues when you may as well holler
While bringing the dead to Friday night supper
Bathing in almond milk while others in squalor
Heads are kept down when the sky is most hateful
None are forgiven even those who are faithful
Quiet is wasted on those who can't hear it
Grounding the ship when there's no one to steer it

Fools like you are proof god exists
Rise to the top while others subsist
Blaming the dead as the ink rises from the paper
And then barrel through the crowd til you feel like it's safer

Salting the earth where the soils most shallow
Adding grain to the ground to keep it more hallowed
Commenting on life when the weak begin dying
Informed by ellipses with the gait of a giant
Traipsing through trail mix cause the good lord supplied it
You'll never know so better so why bother fight it.
Mastered in mimicry, well-versed in the verses
Concerned with the symmetry of daisy-chained hearses

Grinding your teeth cause it stops you from spitting
Landing the airwaves, the transponder's transmitting
Sipping champagne as the headaches keep splitting
Dying of irony which would be just as fitting

The fog is so thick it's like marching through soup
Breathing in vapors and what has become of you
A concentrate of the lowest hanging fruit
Aerated now airborne and barely above the root
Taking advantage of the passenger van
Dueling with duality, the flames backpedal to the fan