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The End of an Age
The King sat upon his golden throne,
Beneath the starry sky,
And here upon this very thone,
Is where he shall soon die.
Gems and gold of priceless cost,
Lay strewn around his feet,
But soon this very ground shall be,
Where wise men go to weep.
For, although the King dost know it not,
There is a plan afoot,
An evil plan of death and pain,
In which the King's life will be took.
He raises his goblet to his lips,
Unaware at the arrow sailing to his chest,
To late he heres the desparate screams,
As it thuds into his breast.
He falls backwards, backwards, ever backwards,
Til his head does hit the hardened stone,
And as he roles down to the floor,
He gives a final groan.
So as you lay in your bed tonight,
Here in Candlekeep,
Spare a thought for the departed king,
And don't be afraid to weep.
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