Renaissance
Heavy is the crown,
Under responsibilities you drown,
Peace and politics,
every decision sticks,
Tighter is the gown,
For a single frown,
Could displease the wrong,
And change the whole song,
Heavy is the armour,
With the weight of honor,
The burden of hope,
How would you cope?
For heavier than them all,
Is the question of your fall,
for the whole country depends,
on you and your friends
If you’re not smarter,
you’ll become a martyr,
so think on your feet,
know when to retreat
show no fear,
but dont let anyone near,
a country at war,
another banging on their door,
thick is the ink,
under red you’ll sink,
you’ll record,
what’ll become a battle of old
and the country depends,
upon soldiers and friends,
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but the bloodshed begins
and so do the sins
shatter the crown,
shred the gown,
no longer so tall,
this family will fall,
chip the armour,
spill the ink,
blood will splatter,
& water the steppes,
The capital in pain,
what once brought so much gain,
the city of fame,
is lit aflame,
it’ll become a myth in a legend,
generations, and their descended,
will live apart,
from the country that forged their lines heart,
until, crumbled an old,
a story will be told,
a tale of an ancient land,
that held a nobility so grand,
a ruby-studded crown,
the most beautiful gown,
a chivalrous knight,
will all fight,
A path so bright,
a scribe will write,
the cycle anew,
until they burn too
