Highness they call thee

Of what I do not see

To be a part of that deadness

That rearrangement

Simplicity of madness

Choirs of angels beckon me

As I stand amongst the crowd

Who worship thee

Cacophony of brass jingles through the night

As a mirage, you take flight

Wrapped up within your shroud of illusion

Trapped up within your crowd of delusion

If your followers could only see

What a fool will be

Once you slip from your omniscient stance

A trip, stumble and fall

You will lose them all

I will offer my service

For one last dance