In shadows deep where specters dwell,
A bitter stench of truth, they tell—
Each twisted smile a mask of grace,
Yet underneath, the hollow space.

Upon a plate, sweet lies deceive,
With colors bright, our hearts believe—
Yet taste reveals the rotting core,
A banquet set on fervent lore.

The streets, where filth and whispers blend,
Invite the weary soul to bend;
With every step, the bile ascends,
A cruel jest that never ends.

Yet in this muck, we find our voice,
To rise, to shake, to make a choice.
For in the grime, the heart beats strong—
To face the gross, to sing our song.