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   And 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