They took me off my throne,
So they could show me the new garden,

I’ve always hated this place.
So why must I stay?

A year after Columbus they made me constable of this,
This begotten garden full of seeds and dreams,
That we tread on day to day,
Days are added to make years,
And ten of those to make a death.

I wrote Anne Boleyn at dawn,
I told her of the sky,
I told her of the wall,
I told her of the war,
And I borrowed her my brother,
So I could fuck her sister.

My heart is true,
My bones are weak,
I’ve ruled this country the best I can,
I’ve ruled this country good as any man,
Still one day they will take me.
“Monks, Monks, Monks!”