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