I once was king
of my own personal hell
I called my kingdom utopia
which was all just as well
for all the perversions of my land
were mine to control
and it sure was hard to manipulate
the soil of my soul

I asked the devil
why must good men die
and he told me the truth
but I was sure it was a lie
because in my own little world
there was no death toll
and it sure got crowded
in the soil of my soul

My advisors said we love you
but please don’t forget
the king can still topple
off the tallest parapet
if he implements policies
that don’t rock and roll
and it’s hard to keep the backbeat going
in the soil of my soul

Their military junta
was a huge failure of my will
it seems the soldiers shot each other
when it was me they had orders to kill
and if the bullets had pierced my heart
I would have bled out of control
thank god the air is bullet proof
here in the soil of my soul

And all my constituents
don’t really seem to care
they’re all poor and wretched
but don’t even know I’m there
and if you don’t believe me
just take a look at the latest polls
thank god it’s not a democracy
in the soil of my soul

Yes, those poor and wretched
who I’m supposed to rule
they too blame the heavens
when it’s me who’s being cruel
but I pay for their suffering
cause my guilt’s as black as coal
and guilt it all you really need
here in the soil of my soul

The soul might be immortal
but I’m really not sure
and if the soul’s immortal
I sure hope there is a cure
cause all these years of failed leadership
are bound to take their toll
you know it ain’t easy
tending the soil of my soul

Now you can call this megalomania
but this theory I’d reject
because this kingdom was infertile
long before my neglect
and I still feel like the emperor
of this earth like shit and coal
I guess the king’s just the worst gardener
for the soil of his soul