| And when I look in the mirror it’s not myself
|
| Staring back with those judging eyes
|
| It’s an image of the past king himself
|
| Taunting me from the skies
|
| Power, it cannot be destroyed
|
| It can only be transferred
|
| The crux of a kingborn
|
| To bear the lowborn’s scorn
|
| I paid my dues
|
| And had the city rebuilt
|
| I walked among the people
|
| With my heart flooded by guilt
|
| The crown, it cannot be destroyed
|
| It can only be transferred
|
| The crux of the lowborn
|
| To dismiss the highborn they mourn
|
| There is nothing worse for a lying soul
|
| Than the mirror of reality
|
| What’s broken can be whole
|
| But you still see cracks in the reflection
|
| And it’s your own curse, a heavy toll
|
| Don’t let it spoil your sanity
|
| You might fill the hole in your soul
|
| But it still has an infection
|
| Not every father gets a chance to
|
| Start his son off in his own footsteps
|
| I’m a far cry from him
|
| A charlatan, unworthy of his blood
|
| There is nothing worse for a lying soul
|
| Than the mirror of reality
|
| What’s broken can be whole
|
| But you still see cracks in the reflection
|
| And it’s your own curse, a heavy toll
|
| Don’t let it spoil your sanity
|
| You might fill the hole in your soul
|
| But it still has an infection
|
| Not every father gets a chance to
|
| Start his son off in his own footsteps
|
| I’m a far cry from him
|
| A charlatan, unworthy of his blood |