Well it just doesn't sit well,
That I've taken this throne from the ill,
I **** myself just to dream,
And dream of killing myself just to lie still.
I may be King, I am King on my own,
Yet the peasant I was, is crying for home,
And this crown cuts me deep, severs the nerves
That I've bled, just to bleed, into this 'future' I've been led to believe-
Is everything we've all been working towards