the figurehead

age has made us bleak

always bow down

i am your golden

hypocritical saint

you are sad and frustrated

i am a figure

of all you trust

and i dissolve like rust

and here you can stand

or like me you can crumble

we are beings of earth

but we worship to the sky

i am skeleton

i look in god's eye

you won't know heaven

until you die

but you see by then

its too late to get high

the words you say softly

are the ones to live by

so starts the end

and the figure will cry

listen to Mrs. moon

she will teach you to lie

worship the earth

we don't live in the sky

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