Was it a huntsman or a player That made you pay the cost That now assumes relaxed positions And prostitutes your loss? Were you tortured by your own thirst In those pleasures that you seek That made you Tom the curious That makes you James the weak? And you claim you got something going Something you call unique But Ive seen your selfpity showing As the tears rolled down your cheeks Soon you know Ill leave you And Ill never look behind Cos I was born for the purpose That crucifies your mind So con, convince your mirror As youve always done before Giving substance to shadows Giving substance ever more And you assume you got something to offer Secrets shiny and new But how much of you is repetition That you didnt whisper to him too
substance, crucifies, huntsman, assumes, giving