This background is so vague 
This falter much too strong 
A slew of reluctance 
Makes the focus warble on 
For every laden vein 
Is a grim pail of prey 
The true are open 
They wrestle with this state 
What a dirty facade 
The coming of an ugly file 
Every guide is ill-timed 
Purely lit for the lofty kind 
What a dirty facade 
The coming of an idle qualm 
And everyone is so still 
No one ever is pure