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