[Verse 1] I tell a story of a kingdom breaking slow, Camelot dissolving in the afterglow. Like shattered glass held in a drunken hand, a crown too heavy for the man who once ruled this land. A throne of memory, not of gold, a legend growing tired, old and cold. And in the silence of the fading hall, even stone forgets how to stand tall. [Refrain] Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh the king who no longer knows himself, lost between the myth and the shell. Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh [Verse 2] The Round Table waits like an empty vow, no one remembers what it meant now. Wood and echoes, ritual decay, truth has learned to quietly walk away. A man arrives without the need for steel, speaking laws that no longer feel real. Not rage, not mercy, something in between— like judgment wearing something once called clean. [Refrain] Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh a voice that echoes through the broken air, speaking to a kingdom gone somewhere. Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh [Verse 3] Blood speaks softly inside the same name, lineage turning into blame. No heroes left, just claims and claims, on broken crowns and borrowed flames. And every oath begins to fray, like history forgetting what to say. [Break / Spoken Section] Camelot does not fall with noise or flame, but in the quiet loss of its own name. A kingdom realizing, too late to defend, it was already its own end. [Refrain – Intensified] Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh now whispered like a curse in stone, a throne that learns it stands alone. Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh [Verse 4] And then she comes with gentle speech, soft as ruin just out of reach. She speaks of peace, of balance, of grace, while endings gather around her face. Not to stop it, not to fight, but to choose which shadow wins the night. [Final Refrain / Outro] Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh the crown forgets the head it crowned, and all that once was sacred sound returns to dust without a name— just history learning how to shame. Rìgh nach aithnich e fhèin tuilleadh
