They seem to like the green ' round here They pass a lot of it around The color of the battlefields I can see it all around Ooh they call it fresh air They don't like the red 'round here They spill it all into the ground It cries out from the battlefields I can hear it all around Ooh they call it fresh air

He hoped the day would never come when he would be the king                                                                As the crown is placed upon his head his heart is breaking