This ship is runned by a psychos on a cruise to nowhere. Its structure is crumbling under the scrutiny of the disturbed mind; the world looks upside down from where I stand and its swirling round and round in ribbons of rusty gold.
I asked the Jester to take the throne. Why? Because irritated geniuses are tricky, twisted funnymen. Witty dream-assasins on a perpetual psychopathic high. He snuck up when noone's looking and snatched the head off the King's heir, then ran off laughing before the blood turned cold.
In the book of Life, IV is the number of Kings and Emperors while Death is numbered XIII. Humble is the servant who serves his Lord but the King is not the Lord; and a Prophet bows before no King.
If the Jester played Death and played it well, then let him play the role of King and we'll see how will the Jester hold the number 4.
