Kings
I could write about a million things,
Like kings in villages or villages in despair.
One hundred people in one hundred places,
Every road leads to somewhere new.
A thousand places I could travel,
But I’ll start my path on the gravel and head to ancient Greece.
The path to riches, the path to poverty,
Every man has a soul, coins and cloaks are just extras.
There is water for drink; pour the wine down the drain,
The children are hungry, save the pennies in your pockets.
The fine linen we dress in has become our cancer,
One by one, they say goodbye without taking the cure.
The day is twenty-four hours long but the sun will surely set,
Write your wrongs, forgive your fathers, invest in your neighbors.
These are the words I have gathered up from the well,
Drink until the moon is bright, then fill the jars for the month of July.
Like kings in villages or villages in despair.
One hundred people in one hundred places,
Every road leads to somewhere new.
A thousand places I could travel,
But I’ll start my path on the gravel and head to ancient Greece.
The path to riches, the path to poverty,
Every man has a soul, coins and cloaks are just extras.
There is water for drink; pour the wine down the drain,
The children are hungry, save the pennies in your pockets.
The fine linen we dress in has become our cancer,
One by one, they say goodbye without taking the cure.
The day is twenty-four hours long but the sun will surely set,
Write your wrongs, forgive your fathers, invest in your neighbors.
These are the words I have gathered up from the well,
Drink until the moon is bright, then fill the jars for the month of July.
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