Was it a huntsman
or a player
That made you pay
the cost
That now assumes
relaxed positions
And prostitutes
your loss?
Were you tortured
by your own thirst
In those pleasures
that you seek
That made you
Tom the curious
That makes you
James the weak?
And you claim you
got something going
Something you
call unique
But I've seen your
self-pity showing
As the tears rolled down
your cheeks
Soon you know
I'll leave you
And I'll never
look behind
'Cos I was born
for the purpose
That crucifies
your mind
So con, convince
your mirror
As you've always
done before
Giving substance
to shadows
Giving substance
ever more
And you assume you
got something to offer
Secrets shiny and new
But how much of
you is repetition
That you didn't whisper
to him too