How can I hope to hold myself high,
when you are clearly one step higher?
Above me in nearly every word, look, way;
I'm unable to compete with aged knowledge.
Before me I gaze upon a God,
shattering through my faithless pride.
Admiring love weathers like acid rain,
slowly cracking the flawless surface.
Anything I can do, you can do better,
even at times you cannot comprehend that truth.
Why can't you see your perfection,
why insist upon my superiority,
why belittle yourself to a peasant,
when you're clearly the prince, and I the pauper?
I'm a minor setback,
you're the final boss;
The princess isn't in this castle,
so don't waste your time in this illusion.