Who’s the King?

I knelt down on my bedroom floor 

That I might speak with God 

For I had grown so tired from life 

And weary from my trod 

I said "Though you're the Emperor,

And  gooddwill you do bring

I kneel down here to ask you

Who's the King?

Is Chance the King? The fickle man

The man of cards and dice?

Is Sin the King? That scoundrel who

Compels us into vice? 

Is it Hate? Or is it Love?

Is it Hunger or Thirst?

Are tides of Grief the guiding force?

Or merry tides of Mirth?

I used to think, oh gracious Lord

That Fear ruled as our King 

At his heels Hate and Prejudice 

Hunger and Suffering

But that was all before I felt 

The creeping chill of Death 

Before the back of my neck felt

His cold and clammy breath 

I heard the Reaper call to me 

Six crows circled around 

The church bells rang their knells and then 

'Twas none of light, nor sound

But these are just my thoughts, oh Lord

I seek but your decree 

And so I ask you Father, Who's

the King? For 'tisn't me."


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