Facadism Lyrics

Treacherous are the pathways between the citadels of the charlatans. The uneven ground slick with oily black residue, oozing from overflowing gullies, turning rancid in the air.
Vassal crowds struggle upwards, those stumbling on the perilous flagstones pushed down and trampled.
Their broken bodies buffeted into the gutters where they sink into the foul morass, slowly subsumed in the sticky flow.

Teeming aspirants push on towards the looming glass spires. Oversized baubles serving as monuments to vanity.
Light refracts through countless surfaces in disorientating patterns, obfuscating the view ahead.
All around are crumbling artefacts of a prospitious age. Once towering libraries of knowledge razed to the ground by insecure autocrats. The ruins daubed with cheap platitudes and tributes to vain follies.

The mob thins out as the ascent becomes steeper. Competition for the lead erupts into violence with casualties littering the path.
The most pitiless break through into the upper levels, now glimpsing the dilapidation behind the facade, and yet straining to preserve the mirage. Venerating a faded power demanding only blind fealty and supplication from its followers. Bereft now of any eminent purpose.
Directionless coteries devoid of all agency, milling around like effluence ever swirling down a drain.
Then depleted, decomposing. Rendered into foul blackening tallow and returned to the dirt...