The King

A dusty attic room, stillness of a tomb

Where someone else's memory gathers in the gloom

While out on the quay, the water slapped at me

And roared as if to say, we wash it all away 


This is where my king calls me home

My king calls me home

This is where my king calls me home

Struggle was the lock, and honor the key

Your sorrows all a basket for the gift you bring to me

And everywhere you've been, we'll visit once again

With careless caroling, and never want a thing