A drunken king with his sloppy crown
The jester is tired of being his clown
His peasants toiling all across town
They pledge allegiance as he puts them down

The king’s nobility is a masquerade
Each tooth in his smile tells its own white lie
With a royal confidence, he’s never afraid
The jester decides that the king must die

What is right and what is wrong?
The jester supposes it’s a relative thing
He’s already written the words to this song
Now he must work up the courage to sing

He walks through the room where the king hangs his coat
As the king’s voice snakes out a kingly quote
But the jester’s knife tears across the man’s throat
His highness is dead, and that’s all she wrote.