The Prince of Lions
By triumph in scarlet cheeks,
will, not succumbing to the weak,
against all haunts, or brightened cheeks,
To break the villain's final plague,
The Prince of Lions, soon to fade,
fortune's fool is left unspoken,
the Prince finds his glass heart broken.
To kin or kind, or killer's cough,
A left-brained song leaves him to stop.
Glory have mercy on those who breathe,
and ones pronouncing untrue beliefs.
Do not dispose of early days,
or saints' lives and lies,
leaving our Prince hazed.
The good-man's path to heaven true,
leaves the Prince's mind askew.
Scratched by love, too close, too grave.
His glass heart soars beyond the brave.
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