Muses' Fool
Foolish boy, do you know what you've done?
Tired of the games, the madness and the insanity, and yet...
... Yet you are the center of it all. You revel in all that you claim to despise. You conduct it, stir it, mold it.
The lunacy that surrounds us, penetrating our waking hours and disturbing our sleeping moments, is all your making.
Behind your silent sly smile is a calculating mind most devious. You take away pain by slow poison.
Foolish man, do you know what you've done?
You've played with the fiery hearts of muses and expect not to get burned.
You charred their insides with the flaming tongues of sweet deceit and wonder why all that is left is a husk of what once was.
You act the jester with a scattered charisma of an entertainer, while behind the curtain you rule ardency with the iron will of a tyrant. How many will you take with you over the cliffs of amoury?
I am the fool for ever hoping it would be different with me. I'd remained the detached observer of your burlesque allurement for so long. Carelessly I thought myself immune to your charm and danced into your enchantments willingly. I did not count upon being snared.
You've infected my spirit and played me like a maestro. Brought my passion to engulf me from inside to leave a shell of what was.
My power, the storm and the flood, may cleans me of your toxic diversion, but will it sweep you over the precipice to join me in the fall?
We are all fools for the May King.
Tired of the games, the madness and the insanity, and yet...
... Yet you are the center of it all. You revel in all that you claim to despise. You conduct it, stir it, mold it.
The lunacy that surrounds us, penetrating our waking hours and disturbing our sleeping moments, is all your making.
Behind your silent sly smile is a calculating mind most devious. You take away pain by slow poison.
Foolish man, do you know what you've done?
You've played with the fiery hearts of muses and expect not to get burned.
You charred their insides with the flaming tongues of sweet deceit and wonder why all that is left is a husk of what once was.
You act the jester with a scattered charisma of an entertainer, while behind the curtain you rule ardency with the iron will of a tyrant. How many will you take with you over the cliffs of amoury?
I am the fool for ever hoping it would be different with me. I'd remained the detached observer of your burlesque allurement for so long. Carelessly I thought myself immune to your charm and danced into your enchantments willingly. I did not count upon being snared.
You've infected my spirit and played me like a maestro. Brought my passion to engulf me from inside to leave a shell of what was.
My power, the storm and the flood, may cleans me of your toxic diversion, but will it sweep you over the precipice to join me in the fall?
We are all fools for the May King.