Simon Bookish - Richard of York lyrics

The royal meteorologist's expression is pained The weather looks bad and it's starting to rain Wasting his prayers on a fate already sealed Kneeling in a tent, intent, in a Bosworth field Richard of York gave battle in vain Richard of York gave battle in vain This weatherman, whose charts predict severe precipitation Couldn't say, couldn't say the future of a nation Fearing Richard of York giving battle in vain He pleads with the king in a language untamed: "Oh please insane monarch don't you know what you're doing Get down off your steed a storm is a-brewing Written right here in history on pages unturned Give the king half an hour he'll be food for the worms" Richard of York gave battle in vain Richard of York gave battle in vain But the nonchalant king, with his transparent skin Views the battlefield and yawns as a grey day dawns In his veins a juice flows of a curious colour Not blood but white rose hence the unearthly pallor The sky rains down daggers cutting mud from the loam Richard's whole army washed away by the storm Crying "Spur your proud horses", the Tudors upon him But the sun, not the storm, tears him limb from pale limb "Chisels a prism where once was an eye Splits open his chest as he lays down to die The hills and the standards are strangely afire As he bleeds seven hues into England's grey sky" Richard of York gave battle in vain Richard of York gave battle in vain Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Indigo Violet Richard of York gave battle in vain Richard of York gave battle in vain Richard of York gave battle in vain Richard of York gave battle in vain