Lined faces, worn and battered;
Soulless eyes, empty and tired;
Lifeless bodies, destitute and hagged;
Waiting, slaving, to retire or be fired.
No time, more crime;
Rushing along, no swan song;
Vindictively maim while being a hypocritical mime,
Worshipping God while ringing Satan's gong.
Is it true that beauty can not be found;
You claim that evil and corruption is all around.
Do you not see God's magic on earth's sacred ground;
Do you not hear nature's magnificent siren songs and sound?
To see beauty, you need not look far;
Look to the memories behind each and every scar;
Or even in the way you look when you admire a star;
They all tell me who you truly are.
Beautiful,
It's what you're meant to be.
Beauty,
It's in the way you look at me.
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