I cannot connect myself
Falling from this Earthly shelf
Plagued by ghosts, plagued by demons;
Death in every single season.
Ancient spirits in my wake
Telling me of what's at stake
Kissing me with pristine lips
Where only death there may sit.
The Fiddler sits upon my shoulder
Making it just that much colder
He sits and plays but does not speak
He sits and plays and only weeps.
And God, he sits upon the other
Speaking of evils he cannot smother
Sits and watches fools kneel down
Praying to a falsified crown.
And I, well I too weep with them
And speak of things that we condemn
Things we know we cannot change;
Looked upon like we're deranged.

I sit here with these fallen Gods
These drunken ******* and sunken Sods
These olden kings of another time
Upon a mountain we did not climb.