In this land, of beggars and thieves
A soul is held, as a useless thing
When gold reigns, money of the land
Hold it close like a child, tightly by the hand
In this land, of barren queens
Every man met, is a devilish fiend
And the rivers flow, with tears long cried
Though fields be sown, the wells have long since dried
In this land, of the forever young
Songs of childhood, be repeatedly sung
And, like flowers, wilt away
Though they wish for the sun, the sun never stays
In this land, of angels and demons
Even the mighty fall, each with their reasons
And the heavens weep, but know not why
Winters come, and the living never lie
In this land, of broken kings
A man once held, a piece of a dream
And he wished and wished and wished it be
But in the end, it was as broken as he
And so in this land, of everlasting things
There is but one, truth that rings
Meaning turns to ash, and ash to dust
Even the most beautiful of things must rust