The lights they go down slowly as the cheering voices fade
Bereft of all the guilt in which the victors surely trade
The story's so familiar but the truth we can't ignore
We stomp and stutter madly for the constant guts and gore
We are the audience
We are the trusted fools
We are ambivalent
We are the golden rule
They are entitled
They are ignorant
They are unstoppable
And they are heaven sent
Despair when they declare we have no choice we've got to tear it down
To build it up again
Do you share their vision of repair
And the cynic spits prediction and every holy man has lied
It takes a barely wizened crier to question why we must abide
And the scenery's familiar but they can't admit they're lost
They can't retrace their steps if they've burned every single bridge they've crossed
We are the followers
We are the trusted fuel
They are unstable
And the exception to the rule