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Tomorrow I die like a King
and my victories will not mean a thing
my empire is lost
I’ll be hung on a cross
and my subjects forget how to sing.

I once was an angry young man
born with a gun in my hand
I wasted two bullets
on vengeful rhetoric
and quietly changed my demands

Tonight I make love like a King
for tomorrow I don’t mean a thing
in the arms of a man
how he moves in my hand
and he dies without any warning

we die

Tomorrow I die like a King
and my victories will not mean a thing
my empire is lost
I’ll be hung on a cross
and my subjects forget how to sing.

I once was an angry young man
to your door I would nail my demands
I loved you free market
but I’ve chosen darkness
and the feel of a sword in my hand

Tomorrow I die like a King
And my statue will not mean a thing
cos all that remains
is the plaque with my name
and another sandstorm gathering

we die

My spires and fires and latent desires
I retire and expire
I’m greatly admired
though ire and fire have broke me entirely now

credits

from The Independent Scrutineer: 10th Anniversary Edition, released November 27, 2006

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Pagan Wanderer Lu Cardiff, UK

Electronica fuelled indiepop from South Wales.

Now recording and releasing as Andrew Paul Regan www.andrewpaulregan.co.uk

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