Spectator

Picture yourself in a gentleman's yard
Blank faced with a dumb founded stare
Life's made him wicked and love's made him cold
And he's not really happy you're there
He's cynical, sickly, and truth be told
I'm not sure he's fully aware
Beneath the blaze of his fiery gaze
Is a man who has never been spared

Dead men are happier
Than you and me
No cares, no pain
No reality

Paint yourself rich at the old madam's ball
Masked strangers with burnt charcoal eyes
Her silhouette's sinister smile down the hall
Comes creeping up slowly behind
Love is her luring life taking call
Her suiters fight for her while blind
None of them know they'll be hung on the wall
A trophy that's truly mankind

Dead men are happier
Than you and me
No cares, no pain
No reality



Credits
Writer(s): Haydn Cone
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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