| A reporter in a jailroom, whispering her source to a dying bulb
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| While the prince is in a fable, peaceful in his cradle, convinced of the
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| impossible:
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| All those wicked words I used to build my wild Western truth!
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| I was just following the rules. |
| Yeah, I did what I had to do
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| So now its later than it needs to be
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| And in the dulcet tones of dream
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| The prince atop his chariot
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| Heaven bound & glory be
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| A mother in a market chases after children that she barely knows
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| While the father on the barstool, dropped off by his carpool, is playing a
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| familiar role:
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| I used to be a conquering king. |
| I watched the slow stars shoot & swing
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| When I’d wake, the world would sing. |
| Now, I can’t hear anything
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| So now its later than it needs to be
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| And while his stranger family sleeps
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| The king looks for his castle
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| Heaven bound & glory be
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| There’s a myth we must’ve made
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| One we’re spreading every day
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| In every dying dream we grieve
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| The humming hole we fight & feed
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| It’s the loving lives we long for
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| Heaven bound & glory be
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| A man in a hotel room, tangled to his teeth by the telephone
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| He’s waiting on a woman, wondering what she’s doing
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| And pacing so his pulse won’t slow
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| He drums his legs and pulls his hair; |
| he carves her dimples in the air
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| The raging world has spooked him scared, and he don’t want her lost out there
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| So now it’s later than it needs to be
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| And though his aching eyes want sleep
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| Against all rationality
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| Against everything he believes
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| He prays for her protection
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| Heaven bound & glory be
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| I pray for your protection
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| Heaven bound & glory be |