Bring back the king to his throne,
And the smile may return to the queen,
How can she rule on her own,
When the glory of what might of been,
Is all that she feels,
Measure her bittersweet tears.
Every note of each song, brings a vision of love and of pain back to me,
Like a captive I have locked in a prison,
And whose liberty rests upon me,
But I can't find the key,
You may never be free.
The fire still burns in the hearth,
The music still plays for her pleasure,
But the air is as cold as the death,
And the soft melodies only measure,
Her bittersweet tears.
Every note of each song brings a vision,
Of love and pain back to me,
Like a captive I've locked in a prison,
And whose liberty rests upon me,
But I can't find the key,
You may never be free.
The servants still hang on his every word
But his youthfulness passes him by
The king watches only the seasons
And they watch him, see his sparkling eye,
Holds no diamond anymore.
In the folds which begin every ending
I wish I could forever lie,
But the cloth I wear is not for mending,
For what tailor could stitch up the torn blue sky,
So the battle is done,
Nobody won.

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