The King
And it comes full circle since you're back to the earth
And the deals with god you made don't exist
And it makes you sick to think, religion was a proper fix to calculate your problems with
And I think maybe I should keep this all to myself, myself, myself, myself
And I think maybe I should keep this all to myself, myself, myself, myself
And what business is it of mine
If someone else finds solace in some old book's lines?
Even if I'm seeing it destroy other people's lives
I'm seeing nature and religion as the same side
Because they both kill to survive
And theology is just an excuse why
So where should we look high
If it's just dead planets in the sky?
And the king has given a speech that has lost its vision
And it makes you want to take your clothes off
And wash the words gone
And the king has given a speech that has lost its vision
And it makes you want to take your clothes off
And wash the words gone
And you're trapped in your apartment
Like a lab rat in a cage
Your mind's a hazy maze
In a drug fueled rage you scream "history and mystery no longer make sense to me"
If we're going to make prostrations
Maybe we should make them to crustaceans found under snow and stone?
Maybe we should look in the undertow?
And maybe I should keep this all to myself, myself, myself?
And maybe I should keep this all to myself, myself, myself?
And the king has given a speech that has lost its vision
And it makes you want to take your clothes off
And wash the words gone
Autor(es): Bashful Hips
