C child king sits on his throne,
In his tower casting stones,
Counting everything he owns,
But late at night he cries alone.
There's a village down the hill
With fields to plow and mouths to fill.
Children grow up as they will,
But fuel the fire and blood will spill.
Csh to ash,
Bend the bough,
Run old Rosie around,
Till first is last and lost is found, oh we'll all fall down.
Some say fear is like the wind,
Hard to say how it begins,
Hard to stop it strengthening,
Hard to blow it back again.
Csh to ash,
Bend the bough,
Run old Rosie around,
Till first is last and lost is found, oh we'll all fall down.
Come back daughters come back sons.
Don't believe that this is done,
Even though their rage has run
From shining sea to Washington.
Csh to ash,
Bend the bough,
Run old Rosie around,
Till first is last and lost is found, oh we'll all fall down.