The wind blows in the trees
Leaving podiums in the past
Leaving language that was crass
A sanctum to dismay
Upon his image it did prey
A whisper it did know
To lay king liar low
Such a fancy treat
Twice baked and complete
The wind blows in the trees
Leaving podiums in the past
Leaving language that was crass
A sanctum to dismay
Upon his image it did prey
A whisper it did know
To lay king liar low
Such a fancy treat
Twice baked and complete