The moralist on the mountaintop   The cap gun cowboy caught playing dress up   Patrols his cartoon beat with his costume clothes   The damn fool with his ten-top chip   His bourgeois blues and his heartbreak habit   Slings his lightening bolts, his arrows & stones      Well, you could do it forever   It won't make it better   Cause you won't find your mark   You could use a mirror   To see your target clearer,   All the bad blood that hijacked your heart   But you got what you asked for, so don't even start:   You were never a victim.   So own what you did, son, admit what you are.      Dead weight in a tightrope trance   The pain pill preacher astray in his wasteland   Clenched teeth and a canyon he can't close   But there's me racing right along   The jukebox jester, stuck on the same song   A mouthful of lies, a head full of holes      Until I got worried   And saw the life I could lead   If I backed up off that rope   And let the ground come to me   Steady under my knees   I let my anger burn into hope   I asked for perspective, and it untied my hands   I see the role I played. I chose my own way.   I can't blame you for that.      So when you're sorry   And one day you will be   I wish you all the best   And hope that you drop softly   And it don't end too badly   And your raging head can finally rest   And you can be honest and rescue yourself   But I'll walk my own road. I'll go where you won't go.   You won't put me through hell.   Cause now I see through you. Believe what you need to.   Go haunt someone else.