The Prayer

My mountain is a mole hill

My throne's a busted chair

This crown has turn to rust

And it's all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on

Is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand

I cannot be the king of me

There's the man in white

His words are painted red

There's power in his blood

And only truth in what he said

There's the man in black

With a needle in his vein

Lyin' flat upon his back

This is the prayer that he once prayed

He said, "My mountain is a mole hill

My throne's a busted chair

This crown has turn to rust

And it's all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on

Is gonna buckle at the knee

On my castle made of sand

I cannot be the king of me"

And this harem in my heart is filled

With hot metal and fool's gold

Watch your statue turns to dirt

All that's left in the end is your soul

God save your soul

So he said, "Shout out of control

With all your heart and soul

Though this cold world

May tear you apart

Let the whole world know"

My mountain is a mole hill

My throne's a busted chair

This crown has turn to rust

And it's all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on

Is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand

I cannot be the king of me

My mountain is a mole hill

My throne's a busted chair

This crown has turn to rust

And it's all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on

Is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand

I cannot be the king of me

Lord I'm just a man

I cannot be the King of me