The ruler ruled in Tunisia on a bed of roses
While the people lived on the thorns of empty promises.
The roses spread its fragrance inside the palace gates
While the people sang that the prick of the thorns is their fate
But one day the fragrance leaked outside the palace
And the people knew it was not another thorn
They liked it and wanted more of it
But those inside the palace threw a fit
The ruler ordered more thorns through their forces
While the people crowded the palace for more roses
The ruler now knows his bed has some thorns
And the feeling that you cannot have one without the other is now born
The winds blew some thorns to Egypt too
And the happenings there seems like deja vu
Every ruler sleeping on a bed of roses is now awake
Wondering if a hasty exit they should make
But they forget that every bed they sleep on
Will now only have thorns with all the roses gone.
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