[Verse One]
He did bad things it'll haunt him till he's old
(You're only as sick as the secrets you hold)
Became cold
The mind a breeding ground
Of dark private stories, not to be found
Sheriff Sparsons found nothing between the lines
Self reflection is a field full of mines
Home made wines to [?]
Bottled up for years and it tastes like sh**
Still fit in fine (what a nice guy)
A decent memory has allowed him to lie
Get more pie, never told a soul
Take it to his grave, in the dirt like a mole
Thought he had control but couldn't fit the mold
(You're only as sick as the secrets you hold)
So he's insane, stagnant and plain
Trying to be human in a world that inhumane
Little white lies and deceit add up
Always laying down and he never sat up
To take note, of the way he behaves
Thinks he's got an easy ride out like "Jesus Saves"
Held it all in began to breed disease
Made him an actor so scared he'd freeze
Disabled but he don't get a good parking spot
Always on guard like dogs barking a lot
Kept so much back that he's starting to get fat
Always a distraction he don't think about that
He ain't playing
Now...what the f** was I saying?
[Verse Two]
Uses work, s**, movies and beer
To avoid confrontation with that incredible fear
A smoking mirror, the public will never know
That the guy with the jokes he can feel so low
Act so slow, life is too short
No guarantee on another day of any sort
Torn apart by demons until he's grown old
(You're only as sick as the secrets you hold)
[Scratches of the Two Kings In A Cipher song 'The Definition Of A King']
"But let's get a little deeper now can we do it?"
"So look into my eyes to see what I am thinking"