Mr. Disgrace couldn't get up and go

He was tied to his bed with fear of unknown

Hating his own

His pockets are filled with the scraps of a poem

He'd written to her but she'll never know

He'd ever written a poem

Mr. Disgrace has a problem with parts

Fitting them in and reading the charts

In a world made of parts

He feels he can see in the minds and the hearts

If only the new where everything starts

In a world made of too many parts

If only they knew

One isn't two when you're empty

Blinded by words trampled by herds 'cause he's empty

Mr. Disgrace would you get up and go

You're tied to your bed with the fear of unknown

The fear that you only could know