damon albarn
the dancing king
We pause and judge upon the reigning queen Who looks like a ghost Upon the money most people would agree Oh the soulless dance upon the English dew Across the green fields a procession grows We are the out-of-time people of the rose, sing We are the out-of-time people of the rose The nightingale rejoices The hour disapproves The morning unrequited The moon my heart did choose Now the dancing king is the sun.