He was a king that grew from grace and walked the fields of gold,
He was a friend to young and old and thus his story grows,
He graced upon his halls of gold of land and wealthy hold,
All his friends came to his side when he was young and bold.

He held their hand and walked them through gardens that went cold,
He gave them warmth and guided them through seasons that were cold,
He held them up with his bare hands as they crumbled to the ground,
All his friends came to his side when he was young and bold.

Those halls of gold have gone away and bricks have come to grow,
The gardens that were once so cold have gone to winter snow,
The friends he had held up so high have pushed him to the ground,
What was once a crown on his head is now a skull on the road.

Skull on the Road
By Muhammad Shoaib Ali.

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