A better singer lost thou Thine throne to my own I've got better ways to be tragic New ways to die New ways to fly. Lesser the once-better Now I'm in control. A clockwork spins: Question Your Sacredness. So to the road somehow 'Cause I'm a cop now Might have it blue Silver Or Gold Or even see-through The mightiest witches Can't test my voodoo I've got better magic Then you wanted to try And burn a similar flame I shot right through the screen And you were caught in the refrain. Sit quietly in your seat While I hold this remote down.