by Diana "Kiira" LaPierre
Come and sit with me child and I'll sing you a tale
Of a man who had thought he was too great to fail
Take heed in these words and learn his mistakes
For a fool of a king his men he forsakes
Just a sad little king on his crumbling throne
For all of his sins he makes others atone
Does he not see that the laws that he writes are his doom
The Kingdom he builds are the walls of his tomb
Now this monstrous king was once a great man
But the power that he grasped was too great for his hand
And that power, well you see, it went straight to his head
Now that once great man is shriveled and dead
Started off as a soldier, turned into a King
Of his battlefield skills the bards would all sing
When he heard their tunes, his ego would grow
There's nothing a prideful man doesn't know
Just a sad little king on his crumbling throne
For all of his sins he makes others atone
Does he not see that the laws that he writes are his doom
The Kingdom he builds are the walls of his tomb
Though others advised him to take things in stride
"They're jealous of me and traitors" he cried
Soon all the good men around him were few
In fear of his wrath their silence just grew
Empty and shallow their words had become
To the hubris within the king had succumb
The kingdom he'd built was not built to last
All the things that the king could cling to had passed
Just a sad little king on his crumbling throne
For all of his sins he makes others atone
Does he not see that the laws that he writes are his doom
The Kingdom he builds are the walls of his tomb
Of a man who had thought he was too great to fail
Take heed in these words and learn his mistakes
For a fool of a king his men he forsakes
Just a sad little king on his crumbling throne
For all of his sins he makes others atone
Does he not see that the laws that he writes are his doom
The Kingdom he builds are the walls of his tomb
Now this monstrous king was once a great man
But the power that he grasped was too great for his hand
And that power, well you see, it went straight to his head
Now that once great man is shriveled and dead
Started off as a soldier, turned into a King
Of his battlefield skills the bards would all sing
When he heard their tunes, his ego would grow
There's nothing a prideful man doesn't know
Just a sad little king on his crumbling throne
For all of his sins he makes others atone
Does he not see that the laws that he writes are his doom
The Kingdom he builds are the walls of his tomb
Though others advised him to take things in stride
"They're jealous of me and traitors" he cried
Soon all the good men around him were few
In fear of his wrath their silence just grew
Empty and shallow their words had become
To the hubris within the king had succumb
The kingdom he'd built was not built to last
All the things that the king could cling to had passed
Just a sad little king on his crumbling throne
For all of his sins he makes others atone
Does he not see that the laws that he writes are his doom
The Kingdom he builds are the walls of his tomb
