highly he sits on his pure white stallion, blameless and truthful, or so he portrays himself to be.
he thinks himself to be the one the words are directed at, but he dare point the finger at himself, he thinks himself to be to perfectly unperfect that he could ever do such a thing
he asks of me such little things not knowing they stand on mountains
I dare not speak of her to him, he jumps quickly from his royal perch and rains his thunder down on my back
oh how you think you own the world dearly beloved, so gallop away on your mule and grab your sensitive precious princess and run away to your little Kingdom where you have no rule apon me!
-m