Death of a Visionary

They said I was a saviour, A hero through and through Then they turn around And laugh at what I do. Consumed by greed, Ignorance and malice, Searching for the prize, A golden chalice. A prize that was mine And supposedly eternal Torn from my soul In my world infernal For hell it is Where I have reigned, Instead of heaven As once ordained. All is lost now Tolling are the bells A paupers grave Will suit them very well Though it may be murder 'Cause it's plain to see They've proved they would do anything To get rid of me. For once I am gone They will be me Then God help the world I pray you stay free.