Desecration explores what happens when pleasant words, friendly smiles, and good intentions are not always what they seem. Beneath ordinary conversations and familiar relationships, small acts of selfishness, hidden resentment, and quiet judgments can leave wounds that others never notice. The composition invites the listener to look beyond appearances and consider how easily people can hurt one another without concern about what they have done.
The original composition brings together lyrics, melody, instrumentation, and arrangement to express personal experiences, observations, and reflections drawn from different seasons of life. Each work develops its own musical character, conveying meaning through both direct expression and the subtleties of imagery, symbolism, and interpretation.
Desecration
The room is bright, the voices rise,
A hundred judgments in disguise.
Each measured smile, each knowing glance,
A careful step in the social dance.
Ambition watches every face,
And knows the value of a place.
The sweetest words are passed around,
While venom settles without sound.
So quick to speak, so slow to hear,
So sure the answer must be clear.
The smallest question gives offense,
And arrogance is called good sense.
A darkened mind, an open grave,
So much to take, so little gave.
They gather close, they trade their views,
And never see the harm they do.
They speak of wisdom, speak of grace,
With cold contempt upon each face.
So much conviction, little light,
Each one assured that all is right.
A favor taken as a due,
No thought of what another knew.
A kindness offered, soon forgot,
A small offense that festers hot.
They ask for more than they provide,
And call their hunger wounded pride.
They claim the fruit, neglect the seed,
Then blame the ground for what they need.
So quick to speak, so slow to hear,
So sure the answer must be clear.
The smallest question gives offense,
And arrogance is called good sense.
A darkened mind, an open grave,
So much to take, so little gave.
They gather close, they trade their views,
And never see the harm they do.
They speak of wisdom, speak of grace,
With cold contempt upon each face.
So much conviction, little light,
Each one assured that all is right.
The favored voices set the tone,
Each takes the judgment as their own.
The doubtful word is pushed aside,
The vacant mind is filled with pride.
They cannot see the lives they bruise,
Or count the trust they slowly lose.
Beneath the polish, rank, and name,
The source of all is still the same.
A darkened mind, an open grave,
The sweetest words cannot conceal.
The hidden thoughts, the secret spite,
Come forth beneath the social light.
Their certainty has made them blind,
To all the ruin left behind.
A thousand voices speak as one,
And none can see what they have done.
The voices fade, the doors swing wide,
Each carries home the same old pride.
Tomorrow brings another room,
Another place for it to bloom.
The greetings come, the smiles begin,
The same corruption enters in.
No one can hear the warning sound,
When all agree on what they’ve found.
