There was once a king
Who plays the modavi
Beautiful sound of string
Will lead you to his being.
He always play with love
Until all he saw was blood.
He cried and stop the strokes,
All he feels is sorrow.
He stood and plays again
And let the world hear again
The sound that once beauty
Now turned into eerie
Everyone dances on his tune
Together everyone swoon
Nevermind escaping
From the sorrow of the king