The Prayer

 

My mountain is a mole hill
My throne’s a busted chair
This crown has turned to rust
And it’s all tangled in my hair
This high horse that I ride on
It’s gonna buckle at the knee
Upon my castle made of sand
I cannot be the king of me

There’s the man in white
His words are painted red
There’s power in his blood
And only truth in what he said
There’s the main in black
With a needle in his vein
Lying flat upon his back
This is the prayer that he once prayed

He said, my mountain is a mole hill
My throne’s a busted chair
This crown has turned to rust
And it’s all tangled in my hair
This high horse that I ride on
It’s gonna buckle at the knee
On my castle made of sand
I cannot be the king of me

And this (?) in my heart
Is filled with pot metal and fool’s gold
Once your statue turns to dirt
All that’s left in the end is your soul
God save your soul

So he said, shout out of control
With all your heart and soul
Though this cold world may tear you apart
Let the whole world know

My mountain is a mole hill
My throne’s a busted chair
This crown has turned to rust
And it’s all tangled in my hair
This high horse that I ride on
It’s gonna buckle at the knee
Upon my castle made of sand
I cannot be the king of me
[x2]

Lord, I am just a man
I cannot be the king of me

 
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