Mr. Hypocrisy — Sunday Best, Monday Worst

Lyrics

[Intro]
Sunday morning.
Nine-thirty AM.

[Verse 1]
The screen glows in the third pew, aisle seat.
Sunlight through the stained glass hits his thumb.
He finds the verse. Proverbs, maybe.
Something about a gentle answer turning away wrath.
He positions the coffee cup on the hymnal,
gets the filter just right.
'Valencia,' he thinks. Makes the light look holy.
Caption: "Feeling blessed."
Post.
Seven likes from the family.
Right on time.

[Chorus]
There's a man who posts the verses on a Sunday.
There's a man who screams in traffic on a Monday.
They use his keys. They share his name.
But Mr. Hypocrisy swears they've never met.
No, Mr. Hypocrisy knows they've never met.

[Verse 2]
Monday morning.
Eight-fifteen.
I-5 South is a parking lot with a pulse.
His hands are tight on the wheel of the sedan.
Smell of exhaust.
A blue Toyota slips into the space he was eyeing.
Just... slides right in.
And the man from Sunday is gone.
Just... gone.
The windows are up. The sanctuary is sealed.
The words he uses now are not from Proverbs.
The other driver just sees a face in a window, twisted.

[Chorus]
There's a man who posts the verses on a Sunday.
There's a man who screams in traffic on a Monday.
They use his keys. They share his name.
But Mr. Hypocrisy swears they've never met.
No, Mr. Hypocrisy knows they've never met.

[Bridge]
He parks at the office.
Engine off.
Takes a breath.
Makes that little gesture with his hand,
the one that brushes the rage away.
Just blowing off steam.
He pulls out his phone.
The glimmer of the screen.
Twenty-three likes on the Sunday post.
A comment from Aunt Carol: "So true."
He smiles. A different man smiles.
The one from the church pew is back.
The one from the highway never existed.

[Outro]
Feeling blessed.