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.