The King And The Cripple

Im not going to mention the king that I have between my blankets
Nor will the bodyguard kneeling at the alter ever explain what tale he is a part of
The golden trumpets blow, worries are forgotten and the individual is crippled
The triumph is checkered, the marriage is devoted but the symbolism is inexcusable
The clouds skip over all the thatch and lawn while the statues sit with knees- east to west
And what do you wish to preview? What joy is there in the groan and bite?
Eyebrows are raised at the strength and the confidence that causes the drowning men to wave
Thousands of men who are caught between what they want and the soft flesh they have
There is no real selection between the fire that burns the sky's innovation
When the combination between the spinning cup and gold that was never valued
The great flowers are clipped from the trees and envy is stabbed with the pen of muse
Sewing the costumes for jesters and jokers all thread has been taken from the foreign constellation
Did you see the ships come in? bringing new songs and words that bloom
Great waves of harmonising words that break on the edge of sand
And the rain has been pouring for days, I can still smell it on my clothes
Its turning my hair grey and bringing the prayers to the pink horizon faster
Every little piece of bitterness and strength will get stolen by age
Every little bit of ancient wealth will be replaced by stone and twig
and all the millions of doors will be closed by the friends with the dance of pride on their feet
Who knows where the chances will take us and into whose bed they will weave us
I can not insist any more that you should animate the horizon beyond these boats
Nor will I concern myself with the frozen chalices or blades that are blunt
Will all the purification ceremonies come to an end when outside is in my pocket?
And the population has come to terms that the appreciation for swagger must be destroyed
Yet to leave all that you have made and to trust all that you have breathe
There is no understanding in the choices you make, there is nothing in the reflection
What joy can be found in the groan and bite, How long can you sleep on the pillow
Do you see the melody that all our days make, covered in scales and swimming so easy?
Who do you trust?
When the days are passing and the breeze is wearing out all we say
Just be thankful the weaving weather will keep you perched in your cage
I feel that things are changing
I am fantastic.