The Last King

There was a king and he had a harp, 
And he played it all night calling out the dark, 
For he believed there was light in his beckoning, 
That there was salvation in the reckoning, 
He sold his throne and burned his crown, 
Searching for light in the years he had grown, 
He prayed and he cried and stared into oblivion, 
For he believed from his burnt brow the light shall return, 
The broken king found no peace hither or yonder, 
He would lay in the dark and wonder, 
Waiting for the rain and the thunder, 
And when he breathed his last came the day, 
And his harp started singing a different lay, 
For the king would always say, 
It is the light at last, Hallelujah...