The devil comes in many forms
Do not dwell on that in the shadows
Might come in the form of an Angel
The wings of a white dove
Transparency from far below not above
When we look at the image in the mirror
Honesty is what we see in the eyes
Lies sit on our shoulders seeking false glory
Do not be taken in by envy
or pity, faked modesty truth is honesty
Nor be controlled by that coming from shadows
Not all you see in the darkness is real
Nor enticed by false offerings of a smile
That imperfect is false glory fading in reality
For in the end the mind knows the truth
All the trophy's decay in the dawn of a new day
For what is real is accomplished by our own works
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