Royalty spoilt me
I expected it would,
those crowns,
jewel encrusted
entrusted to be
by the grace of the crowds
who were cheering for me
have been sold to pay dues for the
******* that I use.

I put the blame on the throne which
became the home from my home and
I, the lone ranger
became my own worst king of danger,
the kind of a stranger I'd not
like to be.

Now I'm a peasant, no pheasant, though
a pleasanter type of fellow, a *** in my hand
and the fields are my land,
cabbages to **** and cattle to feed, what
more can a man who was King really need?