Old King Cole

Old King Cole was a brutal soul, and a bloody red soul had he
 He called for his mead and his gun so cold, and he called for his little pigs three
 Now every piggy had a razor blade and sharpened it with glee
 Oh, far and near, they all learn fear from King Cole and his little pigs three
 Factories churn, bodies burn
 Stars are shining bright
 It's your turn, now you learn
 How King Cole feasts tonight
 Old King Cole was not missold, of years he had a hundred score
 The dark appliance of infernal science would give him millennia more
 And he would watch as the suns burned out, collapsing from their core
 Oh, never to forgive he would eternal live, his hands dyed red by gore
 Factories churn, bodies burn
 Stars are shining bright
 It's your turn, now you learn
 How King Cole feasts tonight
 Old King Cole had conquered and stole the wealth of a thousand suns
 Surrounded was he by bodyguards three, who murdered for their sovereign's fun
 Arrayed in armour black as ebony, it did no good to run
 Whatever your task, the grim pig mask would tell you that your life was done
 Factories churn, bodies burn
 Stars are shining bright
 It's your turn, now you learn
 How King Cole feasts tonight
 In the centre of Zantine, capitol city of New Constantinople, there stood a vast palace
 Cavernous chambers by their hundreds were cared for by staff too numerous to count
 While below, tunnels and passageways unused for a dozen lifetimes
 Sprawled under the city like a spider's web reaching every nook and lurking place
 Somewhere in the centre of this labyrinth
 Stood a small, unremarkable room, roughly hewn from thick black rock
 Where King Cole sat on his white throne
 His shrivelled form seemed all the more withered on its ivory bulk
 Surrounded as always by the three little pigs, silent guardians
 Who never spoke as the blood pooled on the floor before their ruler
 The feast was soon to begin
 Old King Cole had a tale he told to those brought before his throne
 Immense and white it gleamed in the night, the colour of sun-bleached bone
 He'd whisper softly in their ear, the words were never known
 None could tell what he said, save for the dead and the three little pigs alone
 Factories churn, bodies burn
 Stars are shining bright
 It's your turn, now you learn
 How King Cole feasts tonight