There was a time when I was king
I would give and get back
Let people live and attack
The awful things that they would sing
It was in the magazine rack
I'd tell the people if I complained,
They could give me the shame
I had no words to explain
The way they took it so hard
My own people left me scarred
The day I left was a day of hate
Nobody looked to their left,
Nobody turned to their right
They all said it was fate
But they knew it was theft
They knew that they'd lost the fight
I sat around and wept for days
But I had the handbook
I did what it says
They said "pick the perfect man"
The man that I once was
Until the gold hit my hand
I went by my secret plan
I chose the crazy pain
He would be a perfect king
All my words are in vain . . .
what was I thinking?
The people, they attacked and yelled
But he held them back
He said they could not attack
So shocked they obeyed his rules
I guess they saw that he meant
To keep his kingdom of fools
Below the herd of his mules
And sitting there I laughed and laughed
The people now see the things
That I went through as the king
The days passed and I was fine
Until one day I heard things
Some things that should not have been said
So sadly the king was dead
So sadly the people fought in dread
They were cowards, you see
Cowards all because of me
So tough I thought they'd be
But now they're all dead
And I'm all that's left
And so I guess . . .
The kingdom needs a perfect king.
