The worm has turned. The serpent coiled
The snake bit his own tail and stripped it of the scales
And sad notes fall on windless air
The snake that called the tune lies dead beneath the moon
The lies decreed. The lies decried
The lies have taken root, your tongue the rotten fruit
Get on your knee, o cla**ical fool,
and bow to dead gods pa**ed as you caste of your own a**
As a bird you are a lie - all painted wings and electric eyes
I can see past your hood, as Feathers fall into the brook
And in the storm you find my door - drink my last wine and ask for more
And you're wondering who could be writing this song,
when you think you're above and beyond?
Your papers say you're a king - more dead trees to polisch your rings
I wish false birds would fly straight into the stormy skies,
but your wings are to weak to carry you
It's others' wings you seek
False bird, false bird, you are a lie