I met an old king yesterday   he was standing on the mountain side   and though he wore peasants clothes   his royalty he could not hide   nor his grief   staring at the stars   his old hand pointing out the brightest by far   he told me of the skys secrets   and he says the stars lead to Jesus   another king?   and he crys as he says   I have wisdom but it matters not   for my children do not believe my words   I have wealth but it matters not   for it's not enough to buy their love   and he whispers   my children do not love me   as we sit and watch the sun fall   he asks of my knowledge  he says he's felt the pain of a fallen castle wall   he clames sorrow is wisdom's college   as I listen to his words of tears   he quietly confirms my fear   that no matter how you run and scream   terror is never just a dream   I have wisdom, but it matters not   for my children do not believe my words   I have wealth but it matters not   for it's not enough to buy their love   and he whispers   my children do not love me   I'm the only one who listens to his words,   am I the only one to listen to his words?