A silver gavel in your fist, a kingdom at your feet You’re handing out the sentences to strangers on the street Your robes are washed immaculate, your pulpit polished blind But I know the wicked secrets that you’re harboring behind Oh, you’re preaching from the mountain, but you’re drowning in the flood! You’re calling out the sinner with your hands covered in blood! Flying high on a paper wing, looking down your noble nose You’re the beggar in the courtroom, wearing stolen clothes! You squeeze a tear out for the press, a tragic little play Locking up the innocent and throwing keys away You built a house of fragile glass, then threw the heaviest stone Drinking from the devil's cup when you are all alone Oh, you’re preaching from the mountain, but you’re drowning in the flood! You’re calling out the sinner with your hands covered in blood! Flying high on a paper wing, looking down your noble nose You’re the beggar in the courtroom, wearing stolen clothes! You point the finger! You draw the line! But the poison in the water is the same you turn to wine! The blindfold on the lady is slipping from her eyes She sees the crooked balance of your comfortable disguise Your pedestal is cracking under all that heavy pride There is nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide! You're coming down! Oh, you're falling down! The glass is breaking! Yeahhhhhh!
