I'll bemoan a vacant life
And mock the love of those I know
I will walk a favoured gait
Across the room to make it known
I have blocked my friends' success
And held the crown of war adorned
And I will walk a laboured gait
And cross the room to make it known
And I will cross the floor
And judge your life and phase-out
And moan 'my cross to bear'
I stayed home and locked the doors
And drank all I wanted and built myself
Again, again
Walked through a gate in the grave, spun in the dance
Said the right things, wait it out
And I rose from the dead, watched from afar
And loved all the sadness, the sorry was mine

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