The King Is Dead Boring

The King puts on his raiment And surveys the royal scene And tries to put his finger on The source of all his ennui But when something goes, it's gone, you know Starts at the top, spreads down Just check out the faded bodywork Beneath his rusted crown They're waiting for impeachment But they can't see the day The queen can't give him any heirs The word is he's to blame So he beheads her for amusements And now he's quoting Nietzsche You'd think that he would have known She was his one redeeming feature But the king isn't dead, the king's dead boring That's the song that the millions sing You name it, he's lost it, he lacks everything The king is dead boring