His voice in the sky is the sound that you hear
His timbre is dim and his motives aren't clear
Why does the prophet above have so much to fear?
Things aren't always the way that they appear
He's a horn with a slanted tone
He's the back without the bone
The king sits on a crooked throne
Stuck inside the story alone
When he raised a trumpet to his mouth
The sound of every voice tumbled out
When he stretched the canvas (?) to the frame
He painted everyone with the same brush
He tells the whole story by a string
He tells the choir when to sing
He's a shadow in the sky
(Chorus)
His description of the truth has pages torn
His inscription of roses just the thorns
His scripture is ripped by the back of his hand
The scribe's wish is the subject's command
His timbre is dim and his motives aren't clear
Why does the prophet above have so much to fear?
Things aren't always the way that they appear
He's a horn with a slanted tone
He's the back without the bone
The king sits on a crooked throne
Stuck inside the story alone
When he raised a trumpet to his mouth
The sound of every voice tumbled out
When he stretched the canvas (?) to the frame
He painted everyone with the same brush
He tells the whole story by a string
He tells the choir when to sing
He's a shadow in the sky
(Chorus)
His description of the truth has pages torn
His inscription of roses just the thorns
His scripture is ripped by the back of his hand
The scribe's wish is the subject's command
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