Paper King

Ooh, ooh, ooh. He struts his halls of gold

but his footsteps sound like doubt. A brittle man in borrowed pride who's terrified of

being found out. He stacks his lies like kindling just to keep the shadows warm.

A frightened heart in counterfeit armor, trembling in the storm. Every truth he

tries to bury grows a root beneath his rain. And the mirrors in his palace

whisper all that he disdains. Oh, our paper king pretending he's made

of stone. But the rain keeps coming and it's soaking through his throne.

He blames the tired and the hungry for the cracks in his regime.