The winter sky was laden
As he slowed in his carriage of state
His senses taut as a bowstring
Sinew and muscle cording
In response to the unknown guests
Halting the steeds
Hailing him as a friend
And offering peace
There was nothing direct that would tell of the threat
No weapons in hand nor deceit in the air
The warning was deeper as they drew near
Knowing they'd come for his crown
They talked of the comforts within his exile
Care he'd receive from the sk**ed infidels
Placed hands on him, invoking sedation
Breathing deeply, eyes unblinking, he screamed
"I'm the king of everything
That my blinded eyes can see
I deny my regicide
And I'll bring you to your knees
I'm the king of everything
My febrile fingers meet
I'll not repeal, I'll never yield
I'm the King Of Number 33"
"I'm the king of everything
My kingdom inside me
I'm the king of everything
The King Of Number 33"
God save our gracious king