Viva La Viada by Coldplay

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

Short Story for POS based on "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay

Chris Litchfield
12/11/11
POS G block
Short story

Ping. Ping. Ping. “Huh?!” uttered King Sebastian as he awoke with a start - the faint sound of autumn rain splattering on a piece of discarded metal in the cobblestone alley. “Oh its just the rain, nice cold rain...” grinned King Sebastian as he looked around his little shelter in the alleyway. He hummed an old song that he used to know. Words long forgotten. “I like rain. Rain is nice.” he continued.

Long menacing shadows receding into their owners spread across the alleyway. King Sebastian finally began to settle into his position among the gutter. The merchants hurrying to their goods-laden stalls and opening their shop shutters. The peasant’s heading off to work to began their toilsome days. The slaves being ushered along by their masters. The changing shift of the city guard. All bringing back faint memories of standing upon a marble balcony in silk robes as the sun rose on of the vast ocean, turning the waves a reddish copper. The smell of frying bacon, eggs, and fresh bread wafting out of the kitchen doors. It was all coming back to him now.

“Hey mister spare a penny?” asked a small, malnourished boy in tattered clothing.
“Where’s your family boy?” questioned the king.
“My family? My... my pa died a few years ago after my little sis was born sir, its just my sis and ma and I now. My ma had to sell our house after to buy us food. We live out in the country now, but i come here to beg and try to get money.” answered the street urchin.
“All you want is a penny?” replied King Sebastian.
“How bout a pound sir? cautiously asked the boy.
“Here you go ragamuffin. You’re going to want to leave the city before that traitor King’s blood runs through the city streets for the hounds to drink, boy.” finished King Sebastian, flipping a large gold coin into the air for the boy to take.
Wide eyed the boy took the coin and nodded his head, running for the city gates, to tell his mother all that had happened.
Shedding his disguise, the rightful King stood up... the rain lightly dampening his hair and forming small droplets of water on his shining armor and glistening sword. He stood and looked toward the east, down the main city road. Toward the castle of shining marble, with the ocean at its back and the sun breaking through the drizzly morning and spreading its copper light upon the castle. The castle that was once his, and will soon be his again. The King looked around at his fellow vagabonds, who stood drawing their weapons, looking toward their leader waiting for the order. Today would be a glorious day. Today would be a day for revenge, and taking back what was rightfully his.

Thesis for Little Green By Joni Mitchell

                 

Joni Mitchell was a poor folk singer when she wrote the song "Little Green" about the daughter that she gave up for adoption. In "Little Green" Joni Mitchell uses a melancholy tone, a shifting 1st and 2nd person point of view and seasonal imagery to illustrate the "sorrow" of giving up her "child" for adoption.