The hanged man who cannot move, Who cannot stand, cannot choose, He will bend but cannot break, Wounds to mend but cannot take. Crucified, his convictions to bare, Hanging there, all but departed, He is not the victim here, He simply loss the fight he started. Never alone but alone I sing, Never to atone, a foolish thing, The fool who thought himself King, The fool who loss luck's favor, The fool who thought; a foolish behavior. Far too soon as far as I can, Too little or far too much, And just as you, as I am, Cold to the touch. The king of sand, I wear the crown, Helpless to fate's hand, A permanent frown. To take the thrill of the battle for the throne, ...longing to be warm, Still cannot shake the chill that has settled into my bones. And soon, I will be gone. Never alone but alone I sing, Never to atone, a foolish thing, The fool who thought himself King, The fool who loss luck's favor, The fool who thought; a foolish behavior.
