| The thunder claps, our performance complete
|
| Sat alone on his throne
|
| Surrounded by strangers and friends I’ve yet to meet
|
| He slumps unimpressed
|
| Though we’ve tried our best
|
| All other glances are torn
|
| Wanting to yawp barely holding the storm.
|
| «Some things just aren’t meant to be»
|
| The King wants no more
|
| And so there it must end along with me.
|
| The rabble must hold its tongue
|
| It is done
|
| We are done.
|
| So we scream
|
| To the king
|
| Though we may seem
|
| To only scream to ourselves.
|
| To know what you like
|
| To only like what you know
|
| To never distinguish and always relinquish your thoughts most critical
|
| To barricade your mind is to die before your time.
|
| The court erupts in a sudden silence.
|
| The cowering crowd once proud
|
| Now kneels on the shoulders of giants.
|
| Horror and disbelief
|
| The challenge complete
|
| Hands up not to the sky but to cover their mouths open wide.
|
| The king’s fists clenched at a room defiled.
|
| He’s the only one with fury
|
| Though the jury contemplate and instate
|
| Behind the curtain smile.
|
| The rabble must hold its tongue
|
| It is done
|
| We are done.
|
| As long as the king dictates what time the drummer keeps
|
| The rabble are shackled and confined to life on bended knee.
|
| No one to stand or fall
|
| No one to think at all
|
| What a merry life they’ll leave led by another. |