Paroles The prayer Aaron Watson

The prayer

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne's a busted chair,
This crown has turned to rust and it's all tangled in my hair,
This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee,
Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me.

There's the Man in white His words are painted red,
There's power in His blood and only truth in what He said,
There's the man in black with the needle in his vein,
Lying flat upon his back this is the prayer that he once prayed:

He said my mountain is a mole hill, my throne's a busted chair,
This crown has turned to rust and it's all tangled in my hair,
This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee,
On my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me.

And this harem in my heart is filled with pot metal and fool's gold,
Once your statue turns to dirt all that's left in the end is your soul,
God save your soul.

So He said shout out of control,
With all your heart and soul,
Though this cold world may tear you apart,
Let the whole world know:

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne's a busted chair,
This crown has turned to rust and it's all tangled in my hair,
This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee,
Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me.

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne's a busted chair,
This crown has turned to rust and it's all tangled in my hair,
This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee,
Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me.

Lord, I am just a man,
I cannot be the king of me.