Itâs been a year since tragedy,
Took the stories from his lips,
But now that itâs time to turn the page,
He finds his hands, they shake just a bit more,
Than they did when he was younger
The dying light reveals a man,
Whose haggard face shows just like a brand,
But his eyes are cold and bright,
Like the January sun
He watched his kingdomâs walls come crashing down
His fall from grace laced with regret,
A pauper king sitting on his wretched throne,
Clutching hopelessly at what was once and may never come again
Cuzâ heâs the salt of the earth,
Knocked down but undefeated,
Theyâll win the war but heâll take the day
Heâs the salt of the earth
Courtesies will go unheeded,
Head held high heâs gonna make âem pay
A weary sigh, he turns to fight,
Cowards crawling from the woodwork fall upon him left and right
His busted knuckles raised,
He goes out to me them
For so many years he chose between being decent and being right,
But will your pride and your convictions keep you safe and warm at night,
What good are walls, when theyâre built to shun the world,
Embrace the cold and bitter end