On Top Of His Throne

All alone.
The little boy on his throne.
Waiting till the day.
Where all will be slayn.
It might be sad to you.
But It's not sad to him.
Two different ways of thinking.

One way the happiness.
Everything filled with joys.
Every little girl flolocking with their little boys.
While they play on the ground, admiring their toys.
Eventually they grow up, To not be forgotten.
Leave the kids to the future, So they know that It's always will be knocking.
The way to through fake happiness, is through there.

The other the sadness, the seriousness, the death.
Walking around thinking how people breathe.
Always a sad thought, Even when disquised.
Just another way for them to hide.
Yet they know what they go through.
They don't follow the others, following their parents sue.

The real way to happiness is what's ensued.
Never repress each though, Make them all in one.
Even though it won't always be fun.
If you don't follow those thoughts, You'll eventually be done.
They'll be no survivers none.
So head this last request, Listen to it good.

Be happy, Even though your not.
Be sad, Don't give it a second thought.
Don't live forever, Enjoy the seconds.
Enjoy those noises, that beckons your soul.
Climb out of the hole.
Don't stay in.
That's one way.
How you can win.