You wear it like a veil,
respectful of the day
you find yourself impaled
on the sting
in her tail.

It fits you like a noose,
this umbilical rite.
When you try to shake it loose,
it pulls tight,
it pulls tight.

You'll be crowned
King of thorns, king of thorns.
Endless night,
on and on,
chasing dawn.

You set yourself a task
that you cannot complete.
You don't get if you don't ask
This time you can't compete.

You're walking Escher's path,
from which you cannot stray.
With both your eyes sewn shut,
now it's dark all through the day.

You set yourself a task...

You'll be crowned
King of thorns, king of thorns.
Endless night,
on and on,
chasing dawn.
Chasing, chasing dawn.