The Prophet

Dark pits in the room the lamp won't hit
Where he hides lies and hate and all that shit
His minds under the bed in his secret stash
His heart's on his sleeve, and his life's in the trash

Barbed wire tears at his tainted soul
Because he dropped himself in this stagnant hole
Tonight he's drowning in a flood of fear
'Cause he's aging and the war he's waging is near

He made his bed with razors and now he has to lie
He's tossing and his heart he's crossing not to die
His wings and his halo have long been gone
It doesn't matter to him because he knows he's not wrong

Left foot out first on the right side of bed
And he falls fast and quick but he covers his head
And dreams are just dreams if you can't make them real
And a future's the one thing you just can't steal