Jester - Smokey Bastard

The thunder claps, our performance complete

Sat alone on his throne

Surrounded by strangers and friends I’ve yet to meet

He slumps unimpressed

Though we’ve tried our best

All other glances are torn

Wanting to yawp barely holding the storm.

«Some things just aren’t meant to be»

The King wants no more

And so there it must end along with me.

The rabble must hold its tongue

It is done

We are done.

So we scream

To the king

Though we may seem

To only scream to ourselves.

To know what you like

To only like what you know

To never distinguish and always relinquish your thoughts most critical

To barricade your mind is to die before your time.

The court erupts in a sudden silence.

The cowering crowd once proud

Now kneels on the shoulders of giants.

Horror and disbelief

The challenge complete

Hands up not to the sky but to cover their mouths open wide.

The king’s fists clenched at a room defiled.

He’s the only one with fury

Though the jury contemplate and instate

Behind the curtain smile.

The rabble must hold its tongue

It is done

We are done.

As long as the king dictates what time the drummer keeps

The rabble are shackled and confined to life on bended knee.

No one to stand or fall

No one to think at all

What a merry life they’ll leave led by another.