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Death Of A Tyrant
  He can feel the winds of change, at his back.
  The constant fear, of the enemies attack.
  But he feels so at home.
  Up on top of his golden throne.
  So much luck, and little timing
  To those with power, always miming
  The act of innocence at strength
  He would go to any length
  Playing on fear, to get the top.
  Using the weak, confusing the strong
  Laying down his legacy
  All he lacks is honesty
  So insecure, but hides it well.
  Afraid of nothing, he tells himself
  Can't be broken just like steel
  Tricking his mind to feel...
  Unbeatable. Undefeatable. Unbreakable. Untakeable
  Always living never dying
  Always strong and never crying
  None would dare, question his power.
  Those who do, will soon live their final hour.
  But maybe on his quest.
  To be the very best.
  There could be regret.
  Surely not to someone..
  Unbeatable. Undefeatable. Unbreakable. Untakeable
  Always living never dying
  Always strong and never crying
  None would dare, question his power.
  Those who do, will soon live their final hour.
  
  Years gone by, and restlessness.
  The littlest things, slip past his mental defense
  Completed his goals
  Yet still found wanting
  Lacking every bit, of empathy
  Finding it hard, hard to sleep.
  What could he have missed?
  Ruling the world with a iron fist
  Any chance, to redeem himself
  Destroyed by drinking, to his own health
  But slowly slowy in all this time
  Could their still be some hope to find?
  Always the victim, never at fault
  Power on the outside, bitterness in the heart
  Tells himself that he cant lose
  Especially if he is truly
  
  Unbeatable. Undefeatable. Unbreakable. Untakeable
  Always living never dying
  Always strong and never crying
  None would dare, question his power.
  Those who do, will soon live their final hour.
  But maybe on his quest.
  To be the very best.
  There could be regret.
  Surely not to someone..
  Unbeatable. Undefeatable. Unbreakable. Untakeable
  Always living never dying
  Always strong and never crying
  None would dare, question his power.
  Those who do, will soon live their final hour.
  He lays on his deathbed, hiding from
  The truth of  what, he had finally become
  And so with his final breath.

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