[IMAGE: https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmSD95jpVN7p4iDmRLuP1Dt5ReN5Egi2WArXM3kbqfsvsz/crown-759296_1920.jpg]

The king, he called me

A coiled word on raven’s wings

Out of a city where soot

Veils yet darker things
/
Then and there I bent the knee

Even though my heart was light

And an old fool´s dream

Bought me out to fight...
/
No, no, no,

I took my chance and ran

Kings are not forever

I won’t dig a hole to find the sun
/
And I saw the King give his word

And all the people cheered

For they’ve heard the same lie

For a thousand years
/
Oh, the kings ramparts!

How they used to make me feel safe!

And how remarkably the gold glistens

Trimmed around his ugly face
/
Yes, my opinion made my blood thick

From fickle set me apart

I’m no longer a pile of bones

That hungers for a heart
/
There are days when I yearn

for the blade´s sweet kiss

and the sweet deliverance

the veiled night has promised
/
For I feel the day on hold

When they shall unearth my hole

My back against the wall

But the ruler of my soul
/
For you may sit high today

But soon will come the time

When we’ll have your starved soul

Matched against mine.

(Initial Image Attribution: skeeze - https://pixabay.com/photos/crown-kings-bavaria-germany-europe-759296/)

Posted Originially on Narrative.org: https://www.narrative.org/post/the-king-he-called-me