Mr. Grey

How you poison the mind of little red riding
A man built on sand, living on lying
When you fill strangers with gloat and boast,
My name must never leave your throat

This is the end and how it looks so ever grim
When we let design decide if we're to sink or swim
The newest machines with no flesh to make them whole
The sturdy beams and feet, no minds to call their own

Here's to you, selfish little you
Getting what you want
No credit when it's due
Your mistakes have paved the way
And now we know the truth

See that you've been stripped down and cut open
Be humble, be weary, narcisstic no more
Know that when I stand, stand atop the mountain
One foot will still be on your face at the shore.

Here's to you.