The King of Death

The King of Death, Blood & Bone

The Belgium King Leopold had himself a kingdom
made of black flesh, blood & bone
his robes of red, lined with satin, dirt and stone
the King dreams of anguish, torture and pain in glee

Old King Leopold built himself a kingdom
and wept with joy upon his throne
and from his pyre of heads he peeled
his daily fill of flesh, blood & bone

as many skulls he would cast together
to make the bed that was his throne
mighty King Leopold dressed his kingdom
in black flesh, blood & bone

in the Councils of Europe he stood and spoke
but it is for their own good that they wear the yoke
savages are they with no God to call
as his fingers and hair dripped of flesh, blood & bone

I am but a humble saint he spat
whose civilized tongue would wilt and wither
had I not spoke and salvation delivered
his teeth and gums, black with grime, black flesh, blood & bone.