Heir to Woe

Blue heavens, blue heavens, why do you grey?
 Found a rope in the tree, and a crown in the hay
 Wolves they call, and follow me home
 There's a knife in my hand but I'm still throwing stones
 Stones that I'm throwing, they turn into maggots
 Am I running from beasts, or just from bad habits?
 Running from beasts, or just from bad habits?
 Like the turn of the wheel, the cold of the steel
 Ain't no use for the cryin' in the den of the lion
 King of fools, scepter, and crown
 Sat on his throne like a god looking down
 Full of holes, he still seems to float
 Now weighted by lead that was tied to his throat
 Hands of glass, seethrough and clear
 Cannot be seen by the things he holds dear
 Cannot be seen by the things he holds dear
 Heir to woe, with a burden to hold
 Now goes hungry for seeds sold for gold
 Cigarette filters make up his sheets
 Try as he might he could not find sleep
 Soul was taken, tied to a mast
 Put there for judgment and wind for to cast
 Put there for judgment and wind for to cast
 Like the turn of the wheel, the cold of the steel
 Ain't no use for the cryin' in the den of the lion
 Like the turn of the wheel, the cold of the steel
 Ain't no use for the cryin' in the den of the lion
 Blue heavens, blue heavens, why do you grey?
 Found a rope in the tree, and a crown in the hay
 Found a rope in the tree, and a crown in the hay