Bring back the king to his throne,
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And the smile may return to the queen.
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How can she rule on her own,
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When the glory of what might have been is all she feels?
|
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The fire still burns in the hearth,
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The music still plays for her pleasure.
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But the air is as cold as the death,
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And the soft melodies only measure her bittersweet tears.
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Every note of each song brings a vision
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Of love and of pain back to me,
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Like a captive I've locked in a prison
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And whose liberty rests upon me.
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But I can't find the key.
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You may never be free.
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The servants still hang on his every word,
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But his youthfulness passes him by.
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The king only watches the seasons
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And they watching him see his sparkling eye
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Holds no diamond any more.
|
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In the folds which begin every ending,
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I wish I forever could lie.
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But the cloth I wear is not for mending,
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For what tailor could stitch up the torn blue sky?
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So the battle is done.
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Nobody won.
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-----------------
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The King And Queen Of England
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Sandy Denny |