He only knew his own point of view
Did not believe in some piece of paper
With so many lies and fakers
In the beginning it was hard
He just plodded along wearily
Avoiding eye contact, scared
Fearing the fruits of his heresy
Ashamed of his loneliness
He was born again, a King
A universe of one, he’s got
The world on a string
The power of money sentenced him
To live under the shadows of his ideals
His daily bread keeps him in chains

One morning he just wandered away
To find comfort in the street corners
He couldn’t give what they’d asked for
So the days of his torture were over
Everybody called him the Fool
For not reading newspapers
For rejecting the media tools
For ignoring the masses

One night, strong waters took him away
He just endured, pretending it was OK
Looked into the skies and missed the ground
If this is a fools’ path, let every man find his own
And then the King was dethroned
But nobody dared to say a word
It was easier to feel outraged
By the image of a mistreated pet