The moralist on the mountaintop

The cap gun cowboy caught playing dress up

Patrols his cartoon beat with his costume clothes

The damn fool with his ten-top chip

His bourgeois blues and his heartbreak habit

Slings his lightening bolts, his arrows & stones



Well, you could do it forever

It won't make it better

Cause you won't find your mark

You could use a mirror

To see your target clearer,

All the bad blood that hijacked your heart

But you got what you asked for, so don't even start:

You were never a victim.

So own what you did, son, admit what you are.



Dead weight in a tightrope trance

The pain pill preacher astray in his wasteland

Clenched teeth and a canyon he can't close

But there's me racing right along

The jukebox jester, stuck on the same song

A mouthful of lies, a head full of holes



Until I got worried

And saw the life I could lead

If I backed up off that rope

And let the ground come to me

Steady under my knees

I let my anger burn into hope

I asked for perspective, and it untied my hands

I see the role I played. I chose my own way.

I can't blame you for that.



So when you're sorry

And one day you will be

I wish you all the best

And hope that you drop softly

And it don't end too badly

And your raging head can finally rest

And you can be honest and rescue yourself

But I'll walk my own road. I'll go where you won't go.

You won't put me through hell.

Cause now I see through you. Believe what you need to.

Go haunt someone else.