I call it honesty 
You call it blasphemy 
We could go around and around 
but at the heart of it Im inbetween 

Blind to your behavior 
With your righteous eye 
Never need a savior 
For your righteous crimes 

I could be a moving temple 
I could be a chosen one 
I could be the fallen son 
that your judgement made turn [bad word] 
The irony is simple 
The measure that you use 
Will be measured to you 
and I dont know if its getting through 

You see it everyday 
Hear every word I say 
You get to pick apart my life 
when I dont even know your name 

Blind to your behavior 
With your righteous eye 
Never need a savior 
For your righteous crimes 

I could be a moving temple 
I could be a chosen one 
I could be the fallen son 
that your judgement made turn [bad word] 
The irony is simple 
The measure that you use 
Will be measured to you 
and I dont know if its getting through 

(Micah) 
let me speak! 
cause there is one thing that you never learned from me, 
it's that what you see is all that's really happening. 
I never once claimed to be everything you read, 
it's just a mere glimpse at what i really want to be... 
but I'm just like you, except for one little thing, 
I can see that I'm real and when I'm cut i still bleed. 
The same night air that leads you to judge me 
is the same night air that leaves me caught between the sheets. 

I am a moving temple 
I am a chosen one 
I am the fallen son that your judgement made turn [bad word] 
The irony is simple 
The measure that you use 
Will be measured to you 
I dont know if its getting through to you.