Mass Radford - Throne

The smell of burning grass
The taste of broken glass
I'll be here forevermore
I've already got my claws
Now blood drips from my feet
Burnt eyeballs from the heat
The feel of rotting meat
I've already got my teeth

He sits upon his throne
I want one of my own
I want one of my own
I want one of my own

Would you rather be up there alone
Or down here with me
I make great company
These horns upon my head
These scars across my chest
Set fire to my bed
Son you're already home
What I have learned here
I do not have to fear
These rags are my new clothes
Cos' I'm already home

He sits upon his throne
I want one of my own
I want one of my own
I want one of my own

He sits upon his throne
(Would you rather be)
I want one of my own
(Up there alone)
I want one of my own
(Or down here with me)
I want one of my own
(I make great company)

Written by:
Nathan Radford

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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