Throwing Rocks from Glass Penthouses - Chuck Parsons

Verse 1 John’s in silk sheets on the 30th floor Preaching peace through a doorman’s door Half-awake protests with camera crews Selling dreams in tailored shoes Tie-dye priests in thousand-dollar jeans Polished slogans in scripted scenes They bathe in light while the dark gets dimmer Another Netflix-backed false shimmer Pre-Chorus Beards and slogans, truth on lease Paper crowns for plastic peace Every word a costume change The world's a stage — and nothing's strange Chorus They’re throwing rocks from glass penthouses Lip-syncing rage in award show blouses Marching in musicals no one can afford While the little folks are cut with the chord They chant for justice, then slam the gate Raise the rent and call it fate They're running the country like spoiled brats Still blaming dad in their linen cravats Verse 2 I was raised by those who fought and bled Not the ones who staged instead Born to a flower wilted in sin Adopted by warriors, tough as tin Grandma stitched love from old cloth scraps While the world danced barefoot in money traps She raised her daughter's kids from dust When peace and love betrayed her trust Pre-Chorus 2 They smoked their truths, then passed the blame Booked one-way flights to fortune and fame Turned communes into condos fast Grew up fake, then made it last Chorus Still throwing rocks from glass penthouses Filming protests in designer trousers They broke the rules then wrote them back Now we die on their paper tracks They call it woke, but they mean rich Flicking off the working class itch They stage revolts like they stage plays Five-act farce in technicolor haze Bridge (Spoken word, quiet build) They called it freedom, but it came with strings — Wired home for cash, while burning wings The Greatest fought, then gave too much And their kids mistook it all for luck I watched it fall from iron hands To barefoot gods in hollow bands And now those dreamers rule with spite Writing laws in Broadway lights Final Chorus (Slow + Heavy) Still throwing rocks from glass penthouses Filibustering with jazz hand shoutses It’s all performance, sound and fake No truth left that they didn’t break So fuck their love and fuck their plays Their spotlight burns, their glory decays They sold us out for a better view And called it peace — when they never knew Outro (Fade-out sample idea) "This isn’t revolution... it’s dinner theater for the damned."