The bread is pretense,
the butter is hypocrisy,
enjoy.
I'm not afraid of monsters,
monsters are afraid of me.
The midget is insane.
He holds a press conference.
He's got a computer chip in his head --
every word he speaks
comes from the assassin in a secret room.
The assassin's face is shadow
shifting in shadow.
Hymns fill the wind,
Money sits on a throne,
and I'm writing with a stolen pen.
A long long time ago,
before they learned to shine,
them stars up in the sky had broken hearts.
Nothing lasts forever --
not your joy and not your sorrow.