The king still sits on golden throne
drinking our blood as wine;
he needn’t skippers to sail the ocean’s tides,
he needs our hearts and minds.
Someone must stand and speak the truth
or all will lose their lives,
there’s some among you who are scared
but you cannot go and hide.
The king is ruled by the best of men
and kept in check by them,
but madness creeps into the crown
and cackles with its kin:
The pen, the laws, the shackles, the means
to which all suffering should end
now turned against the flock
to protect the thirstiest of men.