Some people got: more kicks than halfpence
And cry for attention
Like cracks in the pavement

And all of this pointed
Like perfect TV
When you're sowing the wind

You reap the whirlwind

Who gets the mansions

We get the ruins
Same old story


Your flexible nature
Serving no purpose
Like a terrible artist

Using no shadow
And the king of the castle
Is pulling new shapes

Gilding the lilies
And all of them fakes


Typical tragic
Small house and small street
Narrow the outlook

Small minded complete
The emperor's new clothes
Get clearer and clearer

Dictate to the fingers
That tighten the trigger


And the king of the castle
Is pulling new shapes
Life is a poison

It begins at home
Pride is a trinket
A security blanket

You could tangle the spiders
On the webs that we weave