A King Is Dying

His eyes are deep blue
Like a single flame, jumping out of the fire
His face is deformed
Every muscle is pulsing and shivering
As he sits upon his highest throne
Up in the highest tree
While he destroys another city
And the surviving name him "Mercy"

His eyes don't see a single person
The blue spots notice only a mass
Cause it's far more easy to see a mob die
Then to see one person die
And when he's going to kill
He takes the name that fits him best
And tomorrow he's called "Mercy"

A virgin lies at his feet
Waiting for her death and rebirth
Knowing nothing is really changed
Except for her body and soul
She'll be the mad woman
Who kills him little by little
And they both know, but don't really care