Crown & concrete

Title: “Crownes & Crucibles” [Dark renaissance drill, plague bells, deep 808s, gutter poetry] [Intro – rain on cobblestones, distant church bell] Aye… From ratcatch’d alleys unto golden halls. The streets did raise me. Now the crown doth call. [Verse I – calm, hungry cadence] Born ‘neath the soot where beggars gnaw’d on bone, I learnt betimes the city ow’d me throne. Did weigh white powder finer than king’s stone, Then sold the moonlight parcel’d, ounce by ounce. Mine mother pray’d whilst bailiffs stalk’d the stair, Mine father vanish’d smoke-like in the air. Thus I made coin by candlelight and care, With boiling pots and venom everywhere. Young gutter prince in doublet black as pitch, The alleys whisper “there goeth that rich witch.” I turned mere crumbs unto a merchant’s niche, Now every tavern singeth of my script. [Hook – booming choir and bass] Stacketh the crowns, aye, pile them to the beams, Gold in my purse and powder by the seam. Runneth mine foes straight out their wicked dreams— God save the rogue who built himself supreme. [Verse II – faster, grimey pocket] Mine lads move silent through the fog and smoke, With hidden blades beneath their ragged cloaks. An opp speak ill? We leave his carriage broke, Face in the gutter choking on his boasts. The watchmen circle hawk-like through the square, Yet silver tongues make magistrates play fair. I bribe the priests, the judges, and the mayor— Sin hath a price and I pay double share. I cooketh flames in copper vats by night, Turn ash to angel dust of ghostly white. The fiends line up by lantern’s dying light, Whilst I count crowns till dawn devours the sky. [Bridge – eerie choir, heartbeat bass] From plague pit… Unto palace. A crown bought not by birth— But fear. [Verse III – triumphant menace] Now silk adorneth hands once crack’d with frost, Yet every jewel remindeth me the cost. I’ve seen brave men get buried for too soft, The streets take mercy and then cut it off. Still I advance with wolves at either side, A king unbless’d, but never terrified. For I made empire where the rats reside— And built my throne where lesser men had died. [Outro – fading choir, coins clinking] So raise thy cups unto the gutter-born, The boy who wore the mud like royal form. For crowns grow best where bloody streets are worn… And rogues be kings by break of bitter morn.