Ascended through tower, steps climbing forever taller
Its structure standing on a desolate field
Its secrets and blame reaching forever farther
Jabbing skyward, an accusatory finger
Screaming shame and blasphemy 
At Heaven's falter

Atop the winding stair, towards the throne hall
Wearing the trappings of gloom and denial
Upon ruin sat the King of Fall
His court set for fail

His empire of slow motion
His kingdom of mechanized self exile
The dying of Summer's blaze

His head bowed beneath blame
His crown, known only as shame

Cloaked himself in silence and stone
Watching the glow from atop his spire
As the fields beyond laid razed asunder
His nemeses long gone to bone
As he set their world on fire

His only desire, to watch the world crumble
To dust, beneath the blistering sun

So retreated to solitude, content to be forgotten
Glad with it, the King did revel within
The tower pointing angrily, to the skies above
Brusque and defiant, his kingdom did come
Was this his world to be had?
As he garbed himself in regal wardrobe 
Forgotten promises, distant love
Audiences of solace and peace forbad
Stealthed away, his tower of shadow beneath the sun
Left to his own devices...
The wandering poet, the raging nomad

For upon his Throne, locked in his tower
Long ago, the King had gone mad