Royalty, sitting in regal stance
Opposing black and white
Playing on, (chance by chance)
The board of Kings and Knights.
One twitches his tash
Shifts his cushioned antique chair
Did you hear about the one with the gash;
Riding away in an abundance of Flair?
The sky was red, Land draped in mist
The river cried blood
The sun did set, upon a ghastly war
As he pulled down his hood
He moved his crown
Above his Wrinkled forehead
Thinking of his next strike
Rubbed his palms and said –
They say a lad did rise
Wounded, from the sea of the dead
No armor, sword or disguise
A convocation of eagles overhead.
He has the eyes of a tiger,
Agile as a deer
He entered as a fighter
And now the crowds he steers.
He will have to be crushed
Said the deep voice
On the other side of the board
A man with impeccable choice.
(And little do they know,
The games they play shall end.
The messiah is here, a sword in hand,
Themselves, they won’t be able to fend.
They’ve Knights in their army,
Often playing a game of guess
All they are, a couple of pawns
In karma’s game of chess.)