I have blood on my forehead that's clearly not mine,
no wonder you accused me of doing the crime.
I was pleading my innocence and you turned around,
"She had the blood on her when she was found."
You told everyone and they believed you;
you're not just stupid, you're the king of the fools.
Look at me now, locked up in a cell;
you've built me a castle feeling like hell.
If there are no witnesses, how can one prove?
If there's nowhere to go, how is one supposed to move?
If no one wants to listen, how loud should one shout?
How can one convince someone, who is made to doubt?
I cried all night, you didn't see where I was hurt,
when I tried to explain it, you didn't listen to my words.
I begged you to stay but you were already in the door,
"It's always the same, I've heard it all before."
When doors slam and glasses break, I know that you are back;
eyes have many pretty colours and mine you painted black.
I didn't tell anyone and they believed you,
I'm not just stupid, I'm the king of the fools.














