Peasant (Spoken)

A ghoul sits on a stool and makes a rule fit for a fool

And so a tool cruelly makes off with your gold

Proud 'cause he's allowed, legally endowed wrapped in a shroud

You bowed and thanked him loudly for his cold shoulder

A sheep asleep so deep

You keep doing as you're told

After all it's such a ball to be so utterly controlled

By forces you can't see who whisper it's your luxury

To be another in some bigger brother's stranglehold

And it's hard to be a king in the clothing of a peasant

Hard to see the future and be shackled in the present