The scattered pages of a book by the sea
Held by the sand, washed by the waves
A shadow forms cast by a cloud
Skimming by as eyes of the past
But the rising tide absorbs them effortlessly claiming
They told of one who tired of all singing
'Praise him, praise him'
"We heed not flatterers", he cried
By our command, waters retreat, show my power, halt at my feet
But the cause was lost, now cold winds blow
Far from the north overcast ranks advance
Fear of the storm accusing with rage and scorn
The waves surround the sinking throne
Singing, 'Crown him, crown him'
Those who love our majesty show themselves all bent their knees
But he forced a smile even though his hopes
Lay dashed where offerings fell, where they fell
Nothing can my peace destroy
As long as none smile
More opened ears and opened eyes
And soon they dared to laugh
See a little man with his face turning red
Though his story's often told, you can tell he's dead