I meant to write this as soon as King dropped… but it turned out to be the busiest week of the semester.
So I’ve been sitting with it. And honestly? I’m glad I did.
Because when I have all the feelings about a song, I need to sit down and write about it.
Two years ago, when I sat down with Damian Lewis backstage, I asked him something I had been wondering for a while:
Would he ever write a song about Henry?
At the time, he had just finished filming Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light, and it didn’t feel like a stretch. He had already shown how he could take stories and turn them into songs— Never Judge A Man By His Umbrella inspired by A Spy Among Friends, the Kim Philby story. And more recently, Fix me Up (formerly Suck My Blood) drawing from The Radleys.
So why not Henry?
He smiled and said… maybe.
There’s a lot there. A lot of material. You never know.
But what stayed with me wasn’t the “maybe.” It was how he talked about songwriting.
He said he’s interested in writing about things—about people, events, stories. Not just turning inward, not just writing about himself.
He mentioned Tom Waits—how he would write about everyday moments, sometimes bigger ideas, sometimes love—but always looking outward, finding something interesting in the world.
And that feels important when you listen to King.
Because when I first saw the song title on the Sweet Chaos track list—I did wonder again:
Is this the Henry song?
But listening to it, I don’t think it is.
King, co-written with Guy Chambers, is the second single from Damian Lewis’ upcoming album Sweet Chaos.
It opens in a big, almost storybook way:
“Come look on this, my darlin’
I’ve built it just for you
atop a hill in marble
with a heavenly view”
It’s grand. Carefully built. Meant to impress.
As you hear Damian describe it in the song, you can picture it—pillars, columns, golden halls. A world made to lift someone up. Whoever this “you” is, they’re being told they’re meant for something bigger.
“you can always touch the sky…
even though now you’re crawlin’
you’re gonna fly”
It feels hopeful. Encouraging. Even a bit tender.
And then comes the line that changes everything:
“but then they built the walls”
It repeats. Again and again.
At some point, it stops feeling like just a line… and starts to feel like the message. Because everything that was built earlier to lift someone up…
now starts to close in.
The pillars aren’t just beautiful—they hold things in place.
The golden halls aren’t just open—they’re controlled.
And suddenly, being a “king” doesn’t feel like freedom. Instead, it feels like being put into a role.
Then the song shifts:
“All alone and in the dark
No one sees him”
And that shift matters.
We move from you to him. And from someone being lifted up… to someone we’re now watching from the outside.
Admired. Elevated. Untouchable.
And completely alone.
“He looked up to catch the stars
But in these walls, he’s all alone”
He can still see the sky.
But he can’t reach it. And that’s the point.
Here’s how Damian introduced King on Instagram.
Scrolling through the comments on Damian’s Instagram post, I noticed a few people mention Bowie.
I didn’t catch it on my first listens… but it makes complete sense.
Bowie blended genres—rock, soul, electronic, pop—and created these theatrical, almost otherworldly worlds. A lot of his work is about identity, fame, and isolation—often through characters who seem bigger than life… but still alone.
And that’s exactly what King taps into: the feeling of being lifted up, shaped into something larger than life… and then quietly trapped inside it.
This is where the Bowie vibe clicks, especially in meaning.
And maybe that connection isn’t accidental. Damian has spoken about Bowie before—and just last week, he and Alison Mosshart were at the Bowie immersive exhibit in London.
Besides, Damian’s music publishing company is called Thin Red Duke— hard not to think of Bowie’s “Thin White Duke,” that cool, distant, almost aristocratic persona.
At the very least, you can feel the influence.
But so who is this King?
That’s the question the song leaves you with.
Is the “king” someone shaped by others? someone chasing an ideal version of themselves? Or someone who built their own walls without realizing it?
Maybe all of them.
Because the most haunting line isn’t just about the walls.
It’s this:
“I wanna show you freedom…”
And me being me, I keep wondering what inspired Damian to write this song.
He’s talked before about taking anger and turning it into something positive—something almost liberating. And you can feel that energy in King. It’s controlled, but it’s there.
At the same time, when I interviewed Damian two years ago, he told me that sometimes all it takes is a line, a story, or a life experience—and suddenly it becomes a song.
This song feels personal. Internal. More about what it means to become someone—and what that might cost.
It’s atmospheric.
It’s a little mysterious.
It goes deep.
And at the center of it all is this idea of identity—of playing a role, becoming someone, and what that costs.
Damian recommends bourbon on the rocks for this one—and it makes sense. It’s not a song you rush. You sit with it. Smooth at first… and then it hits.
And, honestly, this might be the coolest song Damian’s ever written.
Not loud—but in that effortless, slightly off-center kind of way.
I can’t stop hitting replay…
Oh, and a small detail I love—the single cover is drawn by Damian’s daughter, Manon, who is studying art in London. The figure she uses is someone she calls “Mr. Yellow.” You can follow Manon’s art page at @manonmccoryart on Instagram
You can pre-order or pre-save Damian’s upcoming album Sweet Chaos here. You can purchase tickets for his album launch gigs and album signings here.
“And, honestly, this might be the coolest song Damian’s ever written.” – Let me join you in that boat! This song defeated my prejudices. And I’m quite a stubborn person. It crept in and took over all my senses. I can’t even explain what a contentment it is to press the play.
Lyrics are poetic and enigmatic. You’re right, we don’t know who’s that King.
My thoughts go with you about playing a role to become someone or something. Chasing tempting life goals, we often end up incaged.
But there’s no anger. I catch a weary but undefeated wisdom—it’s even somewhat sophisticated.
Brilliant song! You can be a King but at what cost? Universal story, isn’t it?
Brilliant indeed!!