Hammer Song and The Tower of Pain
Harder and harder, still harder now, the singing reverberates through the tower of pain.
Who is that trembling up there, clinging to the top?
All these little pains I wanted to get rid of but couldn’t bring myself to, build up.
I’ve kept them for so long, and now filled up my first full box of them.
You know it doesn’t really hurt anymore, but when someone sees me,
if I have this pain, maybe it allows them to show me a little tenderness.
I gather up that which I threw away and pile the full boxes one atop the other.
Watching others pass by out of the corner of my eye, I pile the tenth box on top.
Hmm, still not enough, huh? Doesn’t look like anyone can see it yet.
So I’ll just have to keep building it up, until the whole world can see it.
Higher and higher, still higher now a tower of pain to reach the birds in the sky.
Look at him scrambling to the top, pretending to be king, who does he think he is?
I looked down on the onlookers, their mouths agape wondering what was going on.
From here they look like ants, and so I piled on the hundredth box.
Those of you who have gathered below, this is my pain.
And here I am, so high above you that your consoling cannot even reach me.
Surely I am special. Someone that everyone must look up to.
It was because I was chosen by the God of loneliness, that I have come to this view.
Higher and higher, still higher now a tower of pain to reach the clouds above.
Seated on the top, a king pretending to be God.
All I hear is the sound of the wind, as I pile on the thousandth box.
When I looked down I got dizzy, and the seat I had been in was blown off.
And that’s when I felt truly alone. It doesn’t seem like anyone can see me.
I was scared speechless, and suddenly I heard the hammer song.
From the bottom, each box was knocked out in order, the singing of someone’s hammer song.
“We all want to talk to you, so come down to our level!”
Harder and harder, still harder now, the singing reverberates through the tower of pain.
Clinging to the top, is a God with a runny nose.
Me, pretending to be God, I’m the opposite of who I was pretending to be.
This is who I am, who are you?
