The king bows down
To the girl on the ground
As he watches the sun move west
His empire lost to the lords he crossed
On his cold and ceaseless quests

He wants to love her
She must be his queen
To cover his losses
To soften his spleen

Chorus (in melody, not words)

He’s a king with no crown
But his mind is strong
He’s been too long alone
Wants to sing her his song

She lifts her face
To his dreamy gaze
As the crows circle his heart
His need’s not of this world to her
His depth a world apart

She is no game for
His hundred years in hell
The void that is distance
He knows it all too well

He’s a king with no crown
Now his heart grows cold
He’s cut down by her youth
She’s made him feel old

The king resigns to the call of fate
As he waits for death to come
It is no longer grim to him
His work is nearly done

Now silent peace enfolds him
He yields to its appeal
And may we hope that God’s whim
Finds wages for his zeal

Oh the tired king
Sleep well my tired king