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Smokey Bastard
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Jester
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
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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.
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