Wrote an alibi in mistletoe
And drove it through my heart
Left it there to watch it grow
To pull my ribs apart
Left the blessing incomplete
And dying on the vine
Stole the ground beneath my feet
Is this gracious or malign?
Bells will toll ‘the king is dead'
Crowds sing ‘long live the king'
Heap the blessings on his head
Anoint with oil and eulogy
Withering out a young man's state
Still I dream of being born
Cracking rocks at slumber's gate
Forging chains by which we're drawn
Sand will settle while we wait
These feet of clay will turn to stone
Playing over my mistakes
Make your peace or die alone
Til seven years have come and gone
In secret i will wait
Shadowed under reddened rocks
Sleep by day and nights awake