Your Infidelity: Allowed It, Because I Love You

Darn You, Condé

Song: 'The Man Who Can't Be Moved' by The Script
     "Francis, you've called me." I called my brother Bash, because I need much time to talk about Mary's going to Navarre, with Condè.
('Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me. . .)
     Is it a mistake that I had befriended my cousin? That I had let him in my being king, my family and life? He's gotten very close with Mary, I noticed.
(And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be. . .)
     I do not know what hurts more to find out: whether It was Mary or it was Condè that lead the other to where they are now, or they had just fallen in love with each other simply because it was meant to happen between them.
(Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet. . .)
     "Yes," I declare as I put down my cup of wine, one that is now empty. My voice sounds husky as I speak. "I have, brother. Now, come. Have a drink with me, and let's get begun with this much needed talk."
(And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street. . .)
     "You sound drunk. How many filled cups have you emptied?"
(So, I'm not moving. I'm not moving. . .)
     Oh, Bash. Always worried and heroic and all that 'good person' crap. Though he is a truly good person, the kindness now annoys me. I don't know why. Probably because I had given up being a good person myself. Does being a good king involve this talk? No. I cannot be a bad king. I cannot, I cannot, I cannot!
(People talk about the guy that's waiting on a girl. . .)
     Before I even know it, I am carrying the table in front of me, and flipping it over just as my world has been utterly turned upside down.
(There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world. . .)
     "Francis. Are you all right? What are you so very angry about?"
(And maybe I'll get famous as the man who can't be moved. . .)
     "It's Mary and that ambitious and of a gold-digger Louis!"
(Maybe you won't mean to, but you'll see me on the news. . .)
     "Our cousin Louis? And what does Mary have to do with this? She's your wife." It took Bash several seconds to understand the issue. When he does, how saddened he looked for me. My goodness, have I really gotten so lifeless that even my own brother, who used to see me as the strongest man there ever was, pities me so. "Are you telling me, that Condè and Mary. . . Francis, you have to forbid this. If Mary gets involved in any kind of affair, she will be right away beheaded for infidelity!"
(And you'll come running to the corner, 'cause you'll know it's just for you. . .)
     My eyes turn away from the shattered pieces of glass and the broken legs of table, then onto Bash. Ulch. My eyes roll in emphasis. I almost forgot, Bash loves Mary just as Louis and me. Another man in my life that loves my wife.
(I'm the man who can't be moved, I'm the man who can't be moved, I'm the man who can't be moved)
     I walk three large steps towards my brother, and with rage in my eyes, I grasp his shirt with anger. "Damn, you! You and Condè! Both of you. . . You can't get enough women can you? You are married, Bash! Forget Mary!"
('Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me. . .)
     "I tried, Francis! I did!"
(And your heart starts to wonder where on earth I could be. . .)
     "Tried? You are my brother, you bastard son!" After I said this, I realize with irreplaceable remorse that I had gone too far. Albeit, my brother loves me all too much to hurt me physically more than I already emotionally am.
(Thinking maybe you'll come back. . .)
     "If it is their going to Navarre that bothers you so, I will come with them. Mary will do nothing illicit with me there."
(. . . here to the place that we'd meet. . .)
     I look at Bash, and instead of verbally thanking him, I embrace him. During our deep embrace, I wimp, much like Stirling, Mary's pet dog.
(And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street. . .)
     "Will she and I be Francis and Mary again, brother?" Not caring about my nose running, I ask Bash.
(Going back to the corner where I first saw you. . .)
     Sighing, Bash responds, "I believe she will come back to you, Francis. She's Mary. She comes back to those she loves. And she loves you, most of all."
     (Gonna camp in my sleeping bag. . .)
     "Good. Then, I'll wait for her. I love her. I will give this infidelity my full support, with my full and strong protection as king."
(. . . I'm not gonna move.")