Man In The Paper Mask Songtext
He's tired, he ain't sleepin', he's old enough to know
The fears that keep you up are there at the break of dawn
Ain't no rest for the wicked, no wickedness for the rest
He'll paint on a smile, he's the man in the paper mask
He ain't mean, he ain't bitter, he's numb to all the pain
It's a reminder that he won the fight with nothin' but his name
If you really want to know the truth, all you gotta do is ask
He'll paint you a picture upon his painted mask
The fears that keep you up are there at the break of dawn
Ain't no rest for the wicked, no wickedness for the rest
He'll paint on a smile, he's the man in the paper mask
He ain't mean, he ain't bitter, he's numb to all the pain
It's a reminder that he won the fight with nothin' but his name
If you really want to know the truth, all you gotta do is ask
He'll paint you a picture upon his painted mask
The jesters gather blindly and hold fire in their hands
While the king is yelling orders, he works on his craft
He can draw you any face, but it was never meant to last
Like a castle made out of sand, he's the man in the paper mask
He used to have four pennies, and now he's got 10 dimes
He got there working hard on a job he called life
The burden gave him armor, and armor killed his past
The watercolors bleed from the man in the paper mask
The jesters gather blindly and hold fire in their hands
While the king is yelling orders, he works on his craft
He can draw you any face, but it was never meant to last
Like a castle made out of sand, he's the man in the paper mask
He's running out of faces for the people who are scorned
You can see the man inside where the mask has been torn
The king demands answers, hoping to get the last laugh
But all the guards found was a damned ole paper mask
While the king is yelling orders, he works on his craft
He can draw you any face, but it was never meant to last
Like a castle made out of sand, he's the man in the paper mask
He used to have four pennies, and now he's got 10 dimes
He got there working hard on a job he called life
The burden gave him armor, and armor killed his past
The watercolors bleed from the man in the paper mask
The jesters gather blindly and hold fire in their hands
While the king is yelling orders, he works on his craft
He can draw you any face, but it was never meant to last
Like a castle made out of sand, he's the man in the paper mask
He's running out of faces for the people who are scorned
You can see the man inside where the mask has been torn
The king demands answers, hoping to get the last laugh
But all the guards found was a damned ole paper mask
