Run out of town, banned From the stage. Writing’s burned. You Must have something good.
When they call you “scum Of the earth,” smile. At least You’re not one of them.
If there’s a price to Be paid, put it on my head. No more suffering.
No one should know what I know. Be grateful for my Silence. My burden.
I want you near me But the world is ending, I go it alone.
You all want a piece Of the guy made of rock, but You’ll shatter on me.