Behind Closed Eyes

(ooh-ooh) You wear your Sunday smile like a halo on your head,

Talk about forgiveness, while you wish we were dead.

Quote the Bible loudly,

tell the world you’re a saint,

But behind closed doors,

you’re everything you ain’t.

You twist every story,

turn the truth into a lie,

Play the victim every time somebody asks you why.

Three kids in the middle of a war they never chose,

And you keep throwing matches just to watch the whole thing glow.

Oh, you narcissist, king of the spite,

Always gotta start another fight.

Three kids, three hearts caught in your game,

And somehow everybody else is always to blame.

You scream “Jesus” with your hands full of hate,

Then wonder why nobody wants to stay.

You keep score of every favor,

every dollar, every fight,

Collecting ammunition just to use it overnight.

And when somebody finally says,

“Enough is enough,”

You turn the whole damn story into “Look what they’ve done to

us.”

Maybe someday

you’ll look in the mirror,

And finally see what everybody sees.

Not a saint,

not a savior,

Just somebody who refuses to leave people be.

(let them be)

Oh, you narcissist, king of the spite,

Always gotta start another fight.

Three kids, three hearts caught in your game,

And somehow everybody else is always to blame.

You scream “Jesus” with your hands full of hate,

Then wonder why nobody wants to stay.

Three kids. One broken story.

And a man chasing control.

But you can’t hide forever behind a Bible by your side.