The Mourning of the King
Come strike the tower bells,
Kneel and bow your head.
Pray for our salvation,
Alas, the King is dead.
No more to rule this castle,
And grace these hallowed halls.
The dawn of evil rises,
His Kingdom sadly falls.
A dark malicious Prince,
Releases fear and pain.
The new King on the throne,
With a thousand years to reign.
His subjects bow in silence,
Now left without a choice.
New slaves to his command,
Stripped of will and voice.
The years drift slowly by,
The suffering still remains.
The souls of our descendants,
Are cast with crimson stains.
Black death is all around them,
As blood drips from the quill.
His legend long forgotten,
And yet, they mourn him still.
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