[Intro / Hook] Give me the dirt, the grime beneath the nail, The honest sweat that clings until you fail. (beat drops in) [Verse 1] In glass-spun towers, air so clean it bites, And smiles plastered, a uniform so bright, I walk among them, ghosts in matching coats, Whispering hollow echoes of their boasts. The laughter rings, a manufactured sound, Each perfect gesture, strategically wownd, To please some phantom power in the sky, A silent judge with ever-watchful eye. [Pre-Chorus] And I, a broken cog within the scheme, A shattered mirror reflecting back their dream, Am sick of polish, sick of gilded lies, That paint the rot beneath these vacant eyes. [Chorus] (full instrumentation) Give me the dirt, the grime beneath the nail, The honest sweat that clings until you fail. Give me the sting of truth, however harsh, Than honeyed words that only leave a scar. (repeat last two lines) Give me the sting of truth, however harsh, Than honeyed words that only leave a scar. [Verse 2] Let me see anger etched upon a face, Not careful calm that holds it in disgrace. Let tears flow freely, unashamed and bold, A story whispered, not a story sold. I search for cracks, a fissure in the wall, A whispered secret in this sterile hall. I long to touch the substance of the soul, Beyond the surface, reaching for the whole. [Pre-Chorus 2] But find instead more polish, more display, A hollow promise at the close of day. The mirrors mock, reflecting back my plea, A lonely voice lost in eternity. [Chorus] (repeat, drop instruments halfway through, screamed) Give me the dirt, the grime beneath the nail, The honest sweat that clings until you fail. Give me the sting of truth, however harsh, Than honeyed words that only leave a scar. [Bridge / Breakdown]) Is there one heart that beats without a mask? One moment real, beyond this futile task Of building dreams on foundations built of sand? One kindred spirit in this plastic land? Perhaps a flicker, just a distant gleam, A quiet knowing, hidden in a dream. A touch of pain, a whisper of despair, A hint of truth within the poisoned air. [Final Chorus] Give me the dirt, the grime beneath the nail, The honest sweat that clings until you fail. Give me the sting of truth, however harsh, Than honeyed words that only leave a scar. [Outro] And though the cynic in my heart may scoff, A fragile hope, it stubbornly holds off, And dares to whisper, faint and ever low, That even here, a seed of truth can grow.
