The King is Dead
The deed is done
and the night has gone
what is left is but the throne
and the blood on your hands
The dagger, that dagger.
That which you stabbed that venerable tyrant
the beloved despot, the benevolent, malevolent ruler.
It is done, it is done.
The king is dead, his life spilled
like every common trash on the waxen floors
The morning comes
If only the sun can dry the blood away
and the night has gone
what is left is but the throne
and the blood on your hands
The dagger, that dagger.
That which you stabbed that venerable tyrant
the beloved despot, the benevolent, malevolent ruler.
It is done, it is done.
The king is dead, his life spilled
like every common trash on the waxen floors
The morning comes
If only the sun can dry the blood away