Limping down the corridor
Hiding in the doorway
Pinned behind his pawns
The White King stands at bay
Conscience stained by a Queen
sacrifice
Promote a fresh one – that
would be nice
Now the knight and bishop – red
One by one kill white pawns
dead
Far from the throne horses cried
And the White Knights fell and died
All hope is gone but the
king plays on
Propelled by bitter pride
Praying for relief
Fighting for a draw
Lie down old man
What are you fighting for?
You thought yourself a
master
You still believe the lie
Now you shuffle the wood
around
Afraid, afraid to die
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