[Verse 1] Twenty-one days he marched through stone, The mountain trembled, vast and still. He marched as if the world was known, Convinced the world would bend to will. [Verse 2] He struck a vein, the mountain’s heart, Gold enough to blind the sky. He sealed it with his burning mark, And swore, “This gift will never die.” [Chorus] But gold is heavy, cold, and vain— It cannot heal a kingdom’s pain. The people watched with silent eyes, Their scorn as sharp as winter skies. [Verse 3] The oxen strained, the daylight burned, Through broken towns where hunger lay. He hauled the gold, but never learned, Truth cannot be bought home this way. [Bridge] He passed through villages torn and weak, Children hungry, voices meek. But blinded by his golden prize, He never saw their hollow eyes. The roads were cracked, the fields were bare, The people whispered, none would dare. He marched as if the world was whole, Blind to the kingdom’s breaking soul. [Chorus] Gold is heavy, cold, and vain— It cannot heal a kingdom’s pain. The people watched with silent eyes, Their scorn as sharp as winter skies. [Verse 4] He cried, “Unquestioned! Let it stand!” But truth slipped through his trembling hand. The crowd was quiet, hearts turned away— No riches could command their faith. [Outro] He laid the treasure at the throne, The vaults of gold, the gleaming stone. His father’s gaze was stern, profound— No word was spoken, not a sound. For in that silence, truth was clear: His son had failed to see, to he. The task was never wealth or might— But wisdom, mercy, guiding light.
