The King is Dead
He won't be missed
Let's dance on his grave
Born unto privilege
Died deep in debt
He couldn't be saved
Only a mortal
Choked during dinner
On his silver spoon
Rushed to the doctor
It was too late
For fat old King Buffoon
Chorus
Justice ain't just
But Karma sure is
Our Wannabe King
Has bitten the dust
It’s an age old song, sung through the years. Few countries seem to have avoided the king syndrome where one (it’s almost always a white male – certainly male anyway) rises up, then falls.
The rise and fall of kings, tyrants and dictators.
And this too shall pass