He thinks I'm crazy When I stop while we're in the supermarket Because I love this song I choreograph And he starts to laugh At my spontaneity Yes I might be crazy Even more so lately
Who stands idle at my door? Nay, is it thee? The Faceless King? Weeping sorrow songs of passing pain, Hollow stature, back bent on life-blood cane. Presenting a shivering tale about how his soul was slain; Disclosing that a life in shadows weighs more than a moment of death in vain.