| And when I look in the mirror it’s not myself | 
| Staring back with those judging eyes | 
| It’s an image of the past king himself | 
| Taunting me from the skies | 
| Power, it cannot be destroyed | 
| It can only be transferred | 
| The crux of a kingborn | 
| To bear the lowborn’s scorn | 
| I paid my dues | 
| And had the city rebuilt | 
| I walked among the people | 
| With my heart flooded by guilt | 
| The crown, it cannot be destroyed | 
| It can only be transferred | 
| The crux of the lowborn | 
| To dismiss the highborn they mourn | 
| There is nothing worse for a lying soul | 
| Than the mirror of reality | 
| What’s broken can be whole | 
| But you still see cracks in the reflection | 
| And it’s your own curse, a heavy toll | 
| Don’t let it spoil your sanity | 
| You might fill the hole in your soul | 
| But it still has an infection | 
| Not every father gets a chance to | 
| Start his son off in his own footsteps | 
| I’m a far cry from him | 
| A charlatan, unworthy of his blood | 
| There is nothing worse for a lying soul | 
| Than the mirror of reality | 
| What’s broken can be whole | 
| But you still see cracks in the reflection | 
| And it’s your own curse, a heavy toll | 
| Don’t let it spoil your sanity | 
| You might fill the hole in your soul | 
| But it still has an infection | 
| Not every father gets a chance to | 
| Start his son off in his own footsteps | 
| I’m a far cry from him | 
| A charlatan, unworthy of his blood |