Your face is sweet
With a smile that can't be beat
But I know you are a liar
With eyes like Christmas trees on fire
Take what you need
From any venomous, delusional screed
That fits the facts where you require
King Cruel, unholy empire
O my child, come free yourself from doubt
You put all tongues on trial in the courtroom of your mouth
All the while the voices in your head
Would walk the longest mile to celebrate what you are
And now the future is bleak
No winners in this pyrrhic victory
When it comes down to the wire
We rise from the mire
O my child, wherever you lay your head
You put all hearts on trial in the Kingdom of the Dead
All the while the mundane to the bizarre
Would walk the longest mile to celebrate what you are
