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letra de the zenith - short of breath

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shoulders burdened, even a queen staggers
“on the heights, all paths are paved with daggers.”
who would envy atlas or his station?
who is fool enough to rule a nation?

your pride uncoils the serpent
that nestles in the bosom

trust is anathema to survival
heads of state attract those who would rival
power is a wine that nurtures madness
heart of stone, is there a graver sadness?
your pride uncoils the serpent
that nestles in the bosom

your precarious grasp
my precarious welfare

crowns of gold are worth their weight in sorrow
banners flown today will burn tomorrow
to slip from the zenith is to shatter
as the shards rain down, the masses scatter

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