And from what I can tell this world does not change through the mediocre
All the liking decoration of a social ogre
Dreams denied are walls in which fears confide
Four deep in which I seem to hide
But this freedom which we cry about turn about and scream
This freedom that we lie about will never seem to gleam
When this fear takes over
We consider hope now lost
But what's lost is found
As found as you and I
And when I am found
I'm lost and oh seems as if I'd died
But in dying there's no hope
The hope of me and my
but the sound of hope for you is lost
To be lost and then be found
By the one who lost it all
The ways willingness astound
Decorated is death when you lye upon the ground
But
Death of truth is singular
The life no longer found
For his death alone particular
In which no body can be found
So mediocre cannot hold
The liking of a king
A seem to be social ogre to the normal thing