They really not so different. We all got issues -- some are just more easy to identify. This ones keeps tally marks, that one has lost count. This one has never thought twice, the type that loves rubrics. Just tell me how to do this. Practice makes perfect. That one questions everything, doesn't do too well with authority. Experience is the best teacher. Let me try my own hands. This one's got it covered, that one don't need a covering. This one's good visibly, that one failed miserably. This one got it all figured out, but so does that one, this one knows he's better than that one. That one's filth fills his nostrils -- you think of lawlessness, rebellion, frivolous and arrogant. That one knows this one's brainwashed, a drone who can't think on his own, who's prone to conform. You stink of vain repetition, judgement, arrogance. We've all got beliefs. This one loves mirrors. He spends hours there perfecting his reflection, knowing full well it's lying to him. He just knows his religious cosmetics covers up his blemishes: feeding the poor, loving your neighbor, being tolerant. That's God's airbrush, right? That one hates mirrors, embarrassed of his reflection. He just knows if he blows enough, he'll be too high to notice it. Or even care, or question if it even matters. Like why buy into a system that feeds a man's ego, right? They really not so different. They both liars. Just that one's tired of doing it, this one thinks he's earned it, and that one don't deserve it. But that one agrees and begs for help like, "If I ask nicely, repeat this prayer, master these 12 steps, and clean up, then maybe I'll be redeemed." And this one agrees that if that one just "becomes more like me" that would be well. Both of you believe in your own means. This one is heaping up good deeds. He's involved in social justice. Let me prove he ever let a tool click but been so judgmental on souls you've left busies. As if his filthy rag righteousness is any less dirty than that one's. Homie, let's say they were gonna swim to Hawaii. That one made it one mile, this one made it 10. Neither one of them made it. Y'all are equally dead. That one tries to make it right but he's just heaping up Hail Marys. Like, "If I say I'm sorry, I'll be worthy of mercy." The foot of the cross has an even ground.
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