The Prayer

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne's a busted chair This crown has turned 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 turned 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 turned 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 am just a man I cannot be the King of me