Dressed in a king’s attire,
under the mask of lies,
convincing as a con man,
the country slowly dies.
Blood as coffee stains,
wounds are gaping holes,
the Royal eyes are closed,
as life, the Angels stole.
Adrenalin, a marathon runner,
pumping through their veins,
as they drop their arms in surrender,
crimson in showers of rain.
Running for their life,
fleeing their own land,
perhaps a better future,
their oaths a strong band.