There’s blood on his hands But justice demands Having the proof And he’s been aloof Those who did the deed Have a greater need They want to survive To stay alive
So it’s absurd to expect Them to connect The dots to the puzzle They’re sufficiently muzzled And won’t place the blame On Prince What’s-his-name? Though it’s hard to miss it He’s clearly complicit
So the stench lingers on The conclusion's foregone That he placed the order And condoned the slaughter Of his journalistic critic And just to be analytic In his position He can't stand opposition
His father is ailing With health clearly failing And the throne is in sight To his son’s delight So he’s biding his time While hatching a crime That’s so barbaric The result may be pyrrhic