You and I are in the same room. We both think we're fair. We both live for truths. But then how. Are we to define. Something so subjective. Living under the same roof. So here these battles of wills. They beg for some proof. Of right versus wrong. Your approach seems better than mine. Though it's working for you. All I feel is disconnection. So now it's your your religion. Against my my religion. My humble opinion against yours. This does not feel like love. It's your your conviction. Against my my conviction. And I'd like to know what we've seen. Through the lens of love. Love. Love. Love. And so now your grand assessment. Is that I'm not in your group. That I'm not your kind. And so we're locked in a stalemate. With you in your corner and me dismayed in mine. So now it's your your religion. Against my my religion. My humble opinion against yours. This does not feel like love. It's your your conviction. Against my my conviction. And I'd like to know what we've seen. Through the lens of love. Love. Love. Love. And this stance. Keeps us locked in boxing gloves. And this lie. Remains about us being separate. So now it's your your religion. Against my my religion. My humble opinion against yours. This does not feel like love. It's your your conviction. Against my my conviction. And I'd like to know what we've seen. Through the lens of love. Love. Love. Love