Wage a war against nervousness?
No point lad; a shameful defeat.
Kneeling down to submit my pride.
No choice left but to kiss your feet.
Chin fixed down so that eyes don’t meet.

Whats the matter lad, whats your problem, Can I have a word?
And I bow my head, apologise and keep walking away,
Away from the world.

But Ambee found the perfect cure,
I’m out of the closet and out of front door.
Predict the unpredictable and go back in the den,
I rule this jungle now and I am King again.
I am King. I am your God.
I am at the gates of heaven,
Make me immortal in your thought.

Amnesia, don’t remember nothing. Fuck it, don’t want to.
Drowsy, dizziness, eyes on fire.
When in Rome, don’t tell me what to do,
I’ll conquer the Roman empire.

Whats the matter lad, whats the problem, Can I have a word?
Which fool has shown concern to be crucified?
Prepare for the brutality of my sword.

Not your fault. You didn’t know,
Ambee found the perfect cure.
Predict the unpredictable and go back in the den,
I rule this jungle now and I am King again.
I am King. I am your God.
I am at the gates of heaven,
Make me immortal in your thought.

There lies a pleasing colour in living beings,
The colour so bright, it liberates poise as it inflames.
A divine clout to purify the soul, she’s been told.
That very glimpse of sight she craves, she claims.

A mere glance would fail to decipher it;
Admirable observance is the key.
She fails to catch that vision of colour.
That blind lady’s only misery.

Oh poor lady how naive you are, you clearly have been mislead.
Deprived of nature’s devastation, blessed you are I’d say.
That colour you seek died years ago when apes claimed to be men.
The miracle of sight has only to offer a colour so pale and grey.

Blessed you are blind lady, deprived from men’s cruelty.
Men dismiss the time to observe; they hardly let live what they see.