| Bring back the king to his throne
|
| And the smile may return to the queen
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| How can she rule on her own
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| When the glory of what might have been is all she feels?
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| The fire still burns in the hearth
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| The music still plays for her pleasure
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| But the air is as cold as the death
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| And the soft melodies only measure her bittersweet tears
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| Every note of each song brings a vision
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| Of love and of pain back to me
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| Like a captive I’ve locked in a prison
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| And whose liberty rests upon me
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| But I can’t find the key
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| You may never be free
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| The servants still hang on his every word
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| But his youthfulness passes him by
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| The king only watches the seasons
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| And they watching him see his sparkling eye
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| Holds no diamond any more
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| In the folds which begin every ending
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| I wish I forever could lie
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| But the cloth I wear is not for mending
|
| For what tailor could stitch up the torn blue sky?
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| So the battle is done
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| Nobody won |