self-mythologizing in poetry

I'm a prince up on a parapet
and I'm letting down
my hair
I've known the showers
in ivory towers
and the friendly
ghetto stare

I've been thrown out
for a lack of funds
in the east and in the west
but put down your guns
to have some fun
there's a chance
I'm still the best

I've been trapped up
in this spire
by aspirations
and desire
help me break these
battlements
back down into
low sediments
I'm letting go of
old sentiments
there's only the future now for me
help me climb down
from these heights
my words can be
your royal dowry

I'm a prince up on
a parapet and I'm letting go
of things
but I'll need a hand
getting off the stand
if I'm to be a king

won't you help me
won't you help me
won't you help
won't you help me
won't you help me
help myself