Was it a huntsman or a playernThat made you pay the costnThat now assumes relaxed positions nAnd prostitutes your loss? nWere you tortured by your own thirstnIn those pleasures that you seek nThat made you Tom the curious nThat makes you James the weak?nnAnd you claim you got something goingnSomething you call unique nBut I've seen your self-pity showingnAnd the tears rolled down your cheeks.nnSoon you know I'll leave you nAnd I'll never look behindn'Cos I was born for the purpose nThat crucifies your mind. nSo con, convince your mirrornAs you've always done before nGiving substance to shadows nGiving substance ever more.nnAnd you assume you got something to offer nSecrets shiny and newnBut how much of you is repetitionnThat you didn't whisper to him too.