See the crying of the King,

I think he's angry at almost everything.

He finds it hard to see the light, 

Overshadowed by dark moonlight.

Who is that singing near the lake?

I think it sounds much like heartache.

She is but a foreign Queen,

Admired as she sits practically unseen. 

Her car is nothing more than a horse, 

It needs no gas, it runs on natural force. 

She's not alone, she brings a mystery,

a pet crane, and lots of life history.

The crane finds joy in chasing feet,

Especially those that are offbeat. 

The King delights in the playful sight,

He turns to run, but she holds the light.