Paroles de Portrait
Turn your poles toward because I am magnetic north, and my voice has people lined up miles long. Because they like my simple grace and they love my pretty face, (and they want to hear my poignant, perfect song). So as your joyful jubilee becomes heated rivalry; I ask you, âWhy hold a grudge?âYou claim conceit and obsession, faking sorrow and depression. As if I'm duping all the people for their love. Make a list of all the phrases that align with myself, such as: wonderful, courageous, and omni-potency. Put them all on a page with a beautiful face, and you'll have a perfect portrait of me!
So just let me have the crown because I own this God damned town (and all my fans are mere pawns). I'm an image that's projected and the master of mystique. And everything you think of me is merely drawn. Write a book about my majesty and fill it with the truth, words like: debonair and magical and self-esteem. Arrange them all on a page with a beautiful face and you'll have a perfect portrait of me!
Witness this charade. I'm a genuine parade and I use my inner strengths as a tool. And this whole exaggeration is just your characterization. And you, my friend, are actually the fool!
Compile all of my greatness into a single work of art. Then add rainbows, trees, and mountains, and angels flying free. Take a step back and look at just what you have; it's all your twisted jealousy of me!
âHe is the son. He is the sun. He is the son. He is the Sun. He is the son, the sun, the son, the sun. He is the sun. He is the son. Shine down on us!â
Compile all of my greatness into a single work of art. Then add rainbows, trees, and mountains, and angels flying free. Take a step back and look at just what you have; it's all your twisted jealousy of me!
âHe is the son. He is the sun. He is the son. He is the Sun. He is the son, the sun, the son, the sun. He is the sun. He is the son. Shine down on us!â
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