I hid under cover, waited for my orders
A clown whispered in my ear, "You're not a soldier"
I awoke with a grail in my hand
I sipped it as I went down the octagonal stairway

Compassion was my weakness
I declared war for no reason
Then I awakened, brass knuckles on my hands
I punched the walls as I went down the octagonal stairway

I laid in the hearse, saw the southern lights
And I awakened with a novel in my hand
I read it as I descended the octagonal stairway