Lyrics

For him this world is but a door
Open wide from the beginning
Has a different uniform
For every way the door is spinning
Mostly light-toned and masculine
With subtle alterations
Depending on the angle
To the mirror he is facing
He has sat at many tables
Frequented many stations
Objective stays the same
Throughout his changing occupations
One colour on his front, another on his back
Spins around so much it all just turns to black
He was born above the mountain tops
Always looking down, Never learned to fly
But also never touched the ground
Never learned to climb, Never learned to bow
Expediting his survival from the moisture
In the clouds

He has his hands upon the reigns
Different angles different days
From the shadows to the shadows
Revolving through the mains
Pockets full of trouble
Head full of games
Heart full of ego
Poison throbbing through his veins

Hands entangled with the reigns
Strangling their aims
Swinging lassos from the shadows
Revolving through the mains
Pockets full of murder
Head full of gains
Essence of a psycho
Poison plotting through his veins

He was raised by a colossus
Merciless and monstrous
Golden on the outside
The inside deeply haunted
Around and around and around he blends
Whispering in ears at all the secret events
He has a classified idea how the world should be
How the coin should flip, Who should water the tree
Where the river should flow, What the earth should breathe
And if you wanna get ahead well then you’d better agree
Not just finger on the pulse, his finger is the pulse
Whispers are the heartbeat, blood is the result
Privacy to parties, loyal to his cult
Not a mention of his name he has the kingdom engulfed
Who’s world is this?
This world is his,
From the jokers on the sides along with all of their tricks,
To the jesters in the centre with their podium scripts
Wraps his pocket round them all, and they all submit

He has his hands upon the reigns
Different angles different days
From the shadows to the shadows
Revolving through the mains
Pockets full of trouble
Head full of games
Heart full of ego
Poison throbbing through his veins

Hands entangled with the reigns
Strangling their aims
Swinging lassos from the shadows
Revolving through the mains
Pockets full of murder
Head full of gains
Essence of a psycho
Poison plotting through his veins

He wears a multi-layered suit when he walks outside,
Extra special care when he ties his tie,
Has to talk the talk, has to talk the walk,
Make sure they all remember his one is the normal stride
Looks at ordinary people like we come from Mars
Has no time for us, doesn’t notice our scars
If you lined us up, he would find it hard
To see emotion in our faces or to tell us apart
He has his hands upon the reigns, hands upon our brains
Puts the bullet in the gun, writes the writing on the page
If you talked to him in private you would find him very strange,
Though he’s learned to use our language his true tongue is deranged

I wonder what would come of us if aliens arrived
Would they offer us their help or would they want us to die?
If you saw him with his suit off at the end of the day,
You’d find the answer to that question as you look in his eyes.

He has his hands upon the reigns
Different angles different days
From the shadows to the shadows
Revolving through the mains
Pockets full of trouble
Head full of games
Heart full of ego
Poison throbbing through his veins

Hands entangled with the reigns
Strangling their aims
Swinging lassos from the shadows
Revolving through the mains
Pockets full of murder
Head full of gains
Essence of a psycho
Innately inhumane