The Prayer - Aaron Watson

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne’s a busted chair

This crown has turned to rust and it’s all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me

There’s the man in white, his words are painted red

There’s power in his blood and only truth in what is said

There’s the man in black with a needle in his vein

Lying flat upon his back this is the prayer that he once prayed

He said, my mountain is a mole hill, my throne’s a busted chair

This crown has turned to rust and it’s all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me

And this harem in my heart is filled with pot metal and fools gold

Once your statue turns to dirt all that’s left in the end is your soul

God save your soul

So he said shout out of control with all your heart and soul

Though this cold world may tear you apart

Let the whole world know

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne’s a busted chair

This crown has turned to rust and it’s all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me

My mountain is a mole hill, my throne’s a busted chair

This crown has turned to rust and it’s all tangled in my hair

This high horse that I ride on is gonna buckle at the knee

Upon my castle made of sand I cannot be the king of me

Lord, I am just a man

I cannot be the king of me