| A reporter in a jailroom, whispering her source to a dying bulb | 
| While the prince is in a fable, peaceful in his cradle, convinced of the | 
| impossible: | 
| All those wicked words I used to build my wild Western truth! | 
| I was just following the rules. | 
| Yeah, I did what I had to do | 
| So now its later than it needs to be | 
| And in the dulcet tones of dream | 
| The prince atop his chariot | 
| Heaven bound & glory be | 
| A mother in a market chases after children that she barely knows | 
| While the father on the barstool, dropped off by his carpool, is playing a | 
| familiar role: | 
| I used to be a conquering king. | 
| I watched the slow stars shoot & swing | 
| When I’d wake, the world would sing. | 
| Now, I can’t hear anything | 
| So now its later than it needs to be | 
| And while his stranger family sleeps | 
| The king looks for his castle | 
| Heaven bound & glory be | 
| There’s a myth we must’ve made | 
| One we’re spreading every day | 
| In every dying dream we grieve | 
| The humming hole we fight & feed | 
| It’s the loving lives we long for | 
| Heaven bound & glory be | 
| A man in a hotel room, tangled to his teeth by the telephone | 
| He’s waiting on a woman, wondering what she’s doing | 
| And pacing so his pulse won’t slow | 
| He drums his legs and pulls his hair; | 
| he carves her dimples in the air | 
| The raging world has spooked him scared, and he don’t want her lost out there | 
| So now it’s later than it needs to be | 
| And though his aching eyes want sleep | 
| Against all rationality | 
| Against everything he believes | 
| He prays for her protection | 
| Heaven bound & glory be | 
| I pray for your protection | 
| Heaven bound & glory be |