A passing mockingbird bows before him,
The sovereign of a land he once fought to gain.
His subjects now left him,
THe sovereign of a lonesome domain.
There he sits down,
His empty ambition left him now.
To the horizon, where the land meets the sky,
Places far off, he lifts his eyes,
To leave this place, to wander the world,
And seek a fortune,
...
Of a different kind.
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