The Tourist by American Standards
When all the dust settles
What will be seen
Tarnished relics of fallen king
The wise claim
Love lives on
As beacon of the past life
Guided to the salvaged throne
Passed through this last breath
The debts are paid with copper covered eyes
With the echos silenced
The fire rises
Melts away gilded paths
To show a kings haunted memories
And you made of wax
Burnt at both ends
There is a beauty in
Impermanence
When our bodies are laid in a row
The only difference
Is the flowers that they grow
And we believe
We chase a dream
Inventing meaning out of nothing
The waves push a fate since sealed
Looking back a young king no longer moves forward
Allow the thoughts of regret to float away
A head held high embrace the embers
From lake of mourning
And you made of wax
Burnt at both ends
There is a beauty in
Impermanence
When our bodies are laid in a row
The only difference
Is the flowers that they grow
And we believe
We chase a dream
Inventing meaning out of nothing
In the face of the end I'm a wretch
Fools gold formed a noose on my neck
I hang alone from the rafters
Drowned out all their screams with my laughter
Insurgence cursing my purpose
Lost my way in pursuit of purchase
I've learned that my worth is worthless
Tell my serfs when I'm in the dirt to
Give me my crown
Watch me burn this kingdom down
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