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At night while you're sleeping . . .

The Poet King rides through the night,
he steals from those that have no right
to hoard their riches in dark, locked rooms
while others suffer their impoverished tombs.

The Poet King proclaims to all,
"We can recover from this fall."
But most of all no one can hear.
The loudest voice around is fear.

And the Poet King wonders of this.
Can fear seduce with just one kiss?
And take the hearts of all that move,
imprisoning all in the deepest groove.

The Poet King wanders the lands
with the Raccoons that hold his hands
and raid the gardens in the night
and pass the wealth before the light.

No one has suffered the loss of cash
of those he stole have an endless stash
and of those he passes all the wealth,
he knows damned well will waste their health
on drink and food to overflow
supply has always seemed so low.

The Poet King is an artist true
to save this world, he knows not what to do.
He makes the effort with his friends
to put the suffering to an end.

By day he is the King observed.
They bow in light and sacrifice to serve.
They hold him high as the guiding light
and knows not at all, his work at night.