With pulpits made out of quicksand, You preach the gospel of a dying woman, In your glasshouse that made of straw, You are about to lose it all. When my words cut through, Displace your bones and tissues, And all you are left with, Is the truth. In a straw house covered in shards of glass, You lay in the blood of your past, Inside of a pulpit covered in quicksand, Your words die quicker than our plans. On your throne where you once cast stones, There's only a shadow mimicking, The person you aspired to be, And it follows every move, It's your dream and your noose, And all you can do is lay and cry, The speck hasn't come out of your eye. No one is there to help you. You are holier than thou, But you are holier than no one now, Because you can't be holy, If you are the only God you are worshipping..... Specks in your eye, White skies lit up by your lies, Millions tongues torn out and tied, But I'm glad you still have your pride. And that shadow follows you, Even the sky is sick with the flu, And that shadows always stalks you, Preying on every prayer that poisons the sober air, And that shadow eats you alive, You are just a bunch of parts in cracked cement, All of your body you gave up for lent, But even when you die, There's still that speck in your eye. They've paid for every surgery, They bought you a boat near a saltwater sea, They paid for the perfect boy for you to marry, To every nation you have flied, But there's still that speck in your eye. Your words are empty, Your words are in a bottle, Filled with liquor, pills, and all your beliefs, And now those beliefs are floating out to the sea, You have no leg to stand on, You are just ocean air and relics of blonde hair, And the only way I know your alive, Is that speck in your eye. It's that speck in your eye.