Leave your conscience at the altar

And your morals at the door

Now that all you’ve built begins to falter

From the problems you ignore

Tell me when you look at your reflection

Are you proud of what you see?

Still you question, my disaffection

Why don’t you practice what you preach?

Is this the hill you’ll die on?

Is this where you take your stand?

You’re quick to point the finger

When the blood is on your hands

Are you devoid of reason?

Or just so blinded by your faith?

Desperate for something to believe in

It leaves a bitter taste

Is this the hill you’ll die on?

Is this where you take your stand?

You’re quick to point the finger

When the blood is on your hands

When is it enough?

All the hurt and the shame

You can’t wash out the stain

You’re a victim of your own ways

Twisting all that you've read

Hanging on by a thread

You can run but you can’t escape

Is this the hill you’ll die on?

Is this where you take your stand?

You’re quick to point the finger

When the blood is on your hands