The Crown

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THE ONE WHO FLEES THE LIGHT

[Intro — whispered]

Everybody wants the crown.

Nobody asks what sits beneath it.

Everybody sees the door open—

Nobody sees who turned the key.

[Verse 1]

He was born where empty cupboards

Taught the children how to pray,

Where a dream could die from hunger

Before it learned to say its name.

He watched honest hands grow older,

Watched the wicked hands grow rich,

Then he swore he’d cross the ocean

Even if the boat was cursed.

One night, the silence spoke in numbers,

One name crawled across the page—

Not the Devil preached on Sunday,

Something buried beneath his name.

A minister behind the kingdom,

Where every fortune has a price:

Lucifuge Rofocale—

The one who flees the light.

[Pre-Chorus]

No thunder shook the window,

No fire split the floor.

Just a voice inside the darkness:

“What would you be forgotten for?”

[Chorus]

He said, “Give me fame—I’ll take the flame,

Let the whole world scream my name.

If every blessing hides a blade,

Let it cut me—I won’t change.”

Since seventeen-fifty, ink remembers

What hungry hearts deny:

Everybody wants the morning,

But some are crowned at night.

[Verse 2]

By sunrise, every locked door opened,

Every stranger knew his face.

Men who laughed now called him brother;

Kings were begging for his grace.

Gold arrived like running water,

Crowds appeared from every land,

But mirrors stopped reflecting

Something no one understands.

His mother said, “Your eyes look crowded,

Like somebody else looks through.”

He smiled and answered, “Mother,

That is what the famous do.”

No regret lived in his heartbeat,

No forgiveness in his pride—

He had everything he prayed for,

And something breathing deep inside.

[Pre-Chorus]

No chain appeared around him,

No mark the crowd could see.

The strongest prison ever built

Is making captives think they’re free.

[Chorus]

He said, “Give me fame—I’ll take the flame,

Let the whole world scream my name.

If every blessing hides a blade,

Let it cut me—I won’t change.”

Since seventeen-fifty, ink remembers

What hungry hearts deny:

Everybody wants the morning,

But some are crowned at night.

[Bridge — stripped, almost spoken]

Maybe souls are never purchased

With a signature or knife.

Maybe every small surrender

Takes its payment from your life.

First you sell the truth for access,

Then your people for applause,

Then your sleep to feed the numbers,

Then your silence hides the cost.

You call the emptiness ambition.

You call the parasite your drive.

You say, “Look at what I’ve conquered,”

While it eats you from inside.

And the name beneath the contract

Isn’t always written clear—

Sometimes Lucifuge Rofocale

Is the face inside the mirror.

[Final Chorus]

“Give me fame—I’ll take the flame,

Make the whole world know my name.

Let them love the mask forever;

I have nothing left to save.”

Since seventeen-fifty, shadows whisper

To the desperate every night:

“You can own the eyes of millions—

Just surrender your own sight.”

[Outro — whispered]

Everybody wants the crown.

Nobody studies what it weighs.

Everybody wants the fortune.

Nobody asks what fortune takes.

He never begged for mercy.

He never showed regret.

The world still sings his music—

But it hasn’t heard him yet.