Imprisoned in luxury
He is the ultimate understudy
His wife – an accessory
Carefully, we itemise her
He smiles weakly, his hair is thin
Each expression is a metaphor
In nature, he would be the hen
There is almost a tragedy
In his carefully folded poise
Function denies identity
In the illusion of ordinariness
For he is supposed to be like us
Son of a murdered princess
He smiles weakly, his hair is thin
Each expression is a metaphor
In nature, he would be the hen
There is almost a tragedy
In his carefully folded poise
Function denies identity
In the illusion of ordinariness
For he is supposed to be like us
Son of a murdered princess
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