From poster boys to imposters
The record of our rise and fall
From heroes to zeros
The hackneyed anthem resounds our collective downfall
From old men to our youngsters
We are unified in our way of life
This we know; thus, we shout
This we know; thus, we shout
For Self’s apotheosis starts the journey
And rest, visits only on Schadenfreude’s gurney
Who are we?!
We are skilled actors worthy of the stages of Broadway
Nevertheless, we act on the grandest of them all
Our theatre is the theatre of everyday life
We are dissidents formed in the womb of self-importance
We pride ourselves above all else
We are liars, barefaced liars
We lie to others for the sustenance of our amour propre
We are liars, blinded liars
We lie even to ourselves to hide from reality
We live enamoured by vice yet as its indifferent paramour
We are virtue-signalling fiends
We mislead under the guise of good deeds
We are truth-mongers of falsehoods
We are pervaders of the philosophy and propaganda of duplicity
What do we want?!
We hunger rapaciously for your approval
Like rabid dogs and feral cats
We are convincingly experienced in obtaining it
No mountain is too high to climb for the nectar of validation
No trench is deep enough to descend for the beckoning sell
Our moral failings are the emblems of our act
Deceits of the heart remain the gateway to searing our conscience
The jig is to maintain the optics
To us, It is the breath of life
The performance matters more to us than the peace of our own souls
We tell you
No lies are being told
We sing along to the tune
“Our shit don’t stink”
Straight from Chicanery’s basin into Innocenti’s mould
Yet our fingers remain crossed behind our backs
The whole time we jinx with a knowing wink
There’s the trick
You miss it anytime you blink
Study every slick-kin, they move with a slink
Shake the palm, mouth the Shibboleth
It is our call sign, a sling with our ink
We know who we are
We know what we want
We are everywhere in every place
You may be one of us
You just don’t know it yet
From poster boys to imposters
The record of our rise and fall
From heroes to zeros
The hackneyed anthem resounds our collective downfall
From old men to our youngsters
We are unified in our way of life
This we know; thus, we shout
This we know; thus, we shout
For Self’s apotheosis starts the journey
And rest visits only on Schadenfreude’s gurney
This is the hypocrite’s creed
Grey
Curator of moments, collector of whispers