Emporer supreme of all he surveys
Yet slave to his own mind and led by his thoughts
Locked in a cage for a number of days
Alone with regret and admitting his faults
His alter ego's must have alter ego's
Finds the lack of visitors alarmingly boring
Too scared of his own temper he knows
Creates from memory stories in drawing
'The most dangerous man on the planet!'
Deseves a little taste of our day to day sights
Must pace to n fro thinking why damn it?
He is a human being after all; he too has rights
Surrounded by greyness, blankness and gloom
Requests just a little colour in his existence
Silence from the 'Prophets of Doom'
Chains, keys, bars, keys, walls; Resistance
Notoriety in a nutshell he has become
Tailored by men in fresh tailored suits
Insanity has become his knife and his gun
Determination his fists and his boots
What's wrong with a lunchbox and a trip to the sea?
Would provide him with a palet for art
Give him the taste of for once being free
His return would be like a new start
Whilst busy training for his next fight!
Do not disturb him or 'mark' his work
Have a thought for his singular eternal night
It must drive him fucking berserk
Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie
Emperor supreme of all you survey
Continue your quest for acceptance of recovery
We might see you down at Fistral one day