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The Sunpilots
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Chapter I: King of the Sugarcoated Tongues
Underneath the setting sun the jester and
The chosen one debate which way they'll make the world revolve again.
While somewhere deep under the ground the lords and ladies of the crown will
Sow their seeds all through the night and plant words that he will write.
A puppet dancing on a string- he's in control of everything,
So safe and sound inside the wool they've wrapped him in.
And slowly children gather round to see the freakshow they have found and
Bathe under his golden light and drink the words of second sight.
King of the sugarcoated tongues
Building his tower to the sun.
Ashes, ashes burn him down.
Ashes, ashes burn him down.
Sitting on his throne up high, a playroom king surrounded
By the butterflies they put there just to flatter him.
And through the one-way mirror's eye his masters view their latest prize and
Make the change he'll usher in to cater to their every whim.
But shrouded by the veil of night the puppet king begins to bite
The hands that hold the silver chains he's shackled with.
And from the ashes of a fool a superstar will rise to rule the secret armies they once led.
All hail the king, the prince is dead.
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King of the sugarcoated tongues.
Building his tower to the sun.
Ashes, ashes burn him down.
Hail to the saviour now, he's come
Straight from the straight from their breeding plans to love.
Ashes, ashes burn him down.
Ashes, ashes burn him down.
When we go down to the core
You bend enough times and
You're sure to invite the waves
That linger within and
Collapse the boat that we're sinking in.
You followed him out, so follow him in.
Swallow the words that he serves again.
King of the sugarcoated tongues.
Building his tower to the sun.
Hail to the saviour now, he's come
Straight from the straight from their breeding plans to love.
Ashes, ashes burn him down.
Ashes, ashes, ashes burn him into the ground.
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