The Life and Times (Of a Man Called Depression)
The truth is it was hate at first sight
Staring down the barrel of a man with no real opinions
But with charm oozing from every pore
Just watch him glide across the floor
Does he turn left, will he turn right?
Checks himself in the mirror at least a thousand times a day
It's where truth collides with fiction
He stands before him, the last remaining Gin King of England
Fearless, ruthless, cheerless, clueless
But looking like a million dollars (Wow)
The emperor has got new clothes
He stands accused of being socially inept
Some say rude, aloof, devoid of any real truth
He lives in a world of self-doubt, self-pity, self-loathing, self-harm
The voices inside his head are playing Chinese whispers
As all around him play hide-and-seek
But don't ask him to put a smile on that face or to cheer up
Don't tell him it might never happen, because you know what?
It probably already did
Maybe show him some understanding
Give him time, let him breathe, let him live, yeah
The emperor has got new clothes
Guess what?
The world ended yesterday
Today is just an action replay
And Hell is wherever Heaven is not
So here I stand, the well informed optimist
Who refuses to turn on, tune in, and drop out
I refuse to lose control
I refuse to let it wash all over me
I refuse to succumb to what your vision of happy should look like
Because it certainly doesn't look like you
And when the sign says stop, that's when I'll go
Like a clean, mean, medicated, fighting machine
Who's all dressed up and ready to disco
The emperor has got new clothes