Building temples out of smoke and thread

Wearing crowns that only live inside your head

The oracle speaks to empty pews

While the congregation sees right through

You’re casting shadows taller than the sun

But shadows disappear when day is done

The mountain that you’re climbing turns to dust

Every sermon just an echo of the rust

You’ll never be the lighthouse, never be the shore

Just a candle flickering behind a closing door

Your kingdom’s made of mirrors and falling autumn leaves

A monument to nothing that only you believe

You’re a king to no one in your golden seams

The emperor’s still naked underneath the dream

Painting halos with a weathered brush

Speaking thunder but it comes out as a hush

The well you’re drawing from has long run dry

But you keep pulling buckets from an empty sky

When the stage lights finally fade to black

When the audience never looking back

Will you see the fool behind the mask?

Or just keep dancing while the credits pass?

You’ll never be the ocean, never be the tide

Just a puddle reflecting stars you hide behind

Your castle’s built on quicksand and forgotten prayers

You’re a king to no one in a throne room full of air

Maybe when the curtain falls…

You’ll finally see the writing on the walls…