The courtiers and I
hurry up and wait
on the pleasure of the king
on the master of the gate
Duty trumps the comfort zone
but in the halls of court you see
the clock belongs to him alone
suppose it’s all the same to me
I feel that I’m on trial myself
the time I’ve wasted up to now
I feel it so strong on this bench
I’m slaughtering my sacred cow
to make a meal for angel men
who came to visit me with news
a mighty nation to be born
a generation to fill the pews
of the next great faith the promised race
the chosen people above retort
the next generation of the petty pace
the sycophants line up for court
What is the song of the day?
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