"The Glorious End" - P.G.G.

Some days you just can't see

The vision of the humble, that the forest's made of trees.

There's a bit of shame, for each one's name

The boxes beside, the laying of blame.

Old stodgy, old fun

Fake jewelry, makeup run

Fierce eye-gaze, rank sweat glaze

They're running, running, running

For the Glorious End.

Sometimes it comes to me

The recitation, beautiul mantras, three.

For a whole of us, for a nation's name

Any act is excused, no laying of blame.

"Old Glory", old one

Fake jewelry, my son

Wear it proudly, for all to see

We'll tell you, tell you, tell you

What it means to be free...