You are the Sun king,
You bright young thing,
Who likes to fly with wings.
So you often call the Camelot king
To come and sing.
He always comes during the spring,
When the bees start to sting,
And the air has that zing.
He would always come
To the beat of the drums,
That played as he hummed
And twiddled with his thumbs
He could stare at his boy
All brimming with joy,
Just like a kid with
a brand new toy.
But his boy begins weeping
And his tears start seeping,
As we sit still,
waiting...
As he forgot to bring,
His engagement ring.
We begin to realise in a hurry,
That he will never meet his buddy,
As he will still be all muddy.
Their wedding cake will never bake,
And his bones will begin to ache
As the earth will start to quake,
Was it all
a mistake?
His hope is now only a sliver
And he will soon start to shiver,
As he realises that he is still in that river.
He will never wake
From down
in
that
lake.
But how dearly you will try
For his heart to once again fly,
As he will always wait for him to come by.
He waits every lifetime
And never will
say goodbye.
So you often call the Camelot king
To come out again to sing.
And hope that this time
he hasn't forgotten his ring.
