The scattered pages of a book by the sea
Held by the sand, washed by the waves
A shadow forms cast by a cloud
Skimming by as eyes of the past, but the rising tide
Absorbs them effortlessly claiming
They told of one who tired of all singing
"Praise him, praise him."
"We heed not flatterers," he cried
"By our command, waters retreat
Show my power, halt at my feet,"
But the cause was lost
Now cold winds blow
For from the north overcast ranks advance
Fear of the storm accusing with rage and scorn
The waves surround the sinking throne
Singing "Crown him, crown him,"
"Those who love our majesty show themselves!"
All bent their knees
But he forced a smile even though
His hopes lay dashed where offerings fell
"Nothing can my peace destroy as long as none smile."
More opened ears and opened eyes
And soon they dared to laugh
See a little man with his face turning red
Though his story's often told you can tell he's dead