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