Laga, Ragalor — Richer Than Kings

How Much Do You Own
Only What You See
Then You Have Little sit
And Count Again
The Roof Let Winter Through In Silver Drops
Their Bowls Stayed Full For Only Little While
The Table Leaned Beneath The Weight Of Years
No Gold, No Trophies, No Grand Music Hall
They Split One Loaf Until Each Hand Had Some
They Traded Stories, Laughter, Little Griefs
Outside, The Wind Was Cruel, Inside
None Sat Alone
The Wind Had Teeth
The Cupboard Answered Hollow
Still, No One At That Table Ate Alone
Count The Bread
Then Pass It On
Count The Chairs
No One Is Gone