About the Artist – SERENDIB

SERENDIB is a Sri Lankan-born singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist based in the Netherlands, whose music weaves heartfelt storytelling with a deep sense of social awareness. A professor of acute medicine by day and musician by passion, he brings a unique depth to his songwriting, shaped by a life marked by resilience and reinvention. Forced to flee his homeland during the civil war, he rebuilt his life in the Netherlands, where he now combines a successful medical career with a growing musical legacy. Influenced by icons like Bob Dylan and Paul Simon, SERENDIB’s music fuses folk, pop, and purpose. With past hits like “Wake Up and Shine”, “No where to go” and “Almost Paradise”, his latest work continues to uplift, inspire, and challenge.


New Single: “The Mad King” : A Political Allegory in Fictional Form

His latest release, "The Mad King," is a provocative, fictional narrative centered on a charismatic leader who persuades a powerful nation that only he can fix its problems. As the story unfolds, the leader's rash decisions lead to mounting chaos. All characters and events portrayed in “The Mad King” are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental or .........

The Mad King:
Written, Composed and Sung by SERENDIB

Well, the banker’s got a Cadillac, the worker’s got a cough,
And the landlord raised the rent again, says the times are getting tough.
The preacher’s got a mansion, and the poet’s got the the jail,
Some city`s are just graveyards, and the truth is up for sale.

Oh, ain't it fine? Ain't it grand?
Making great again, the things we don’t understand?
Oh… Keep your head down, bite your tongue,
and once we are dead and gone, liberation will come.

Oh, the Mad King sits upon his throne,
Wears a paper crown, thinks it’s solid gold.
They call him wise, they call him grand,
But he’s just a child with a scepter in his hand.

And The yes-men bow, the cowards kneel,
They kiss his boots and spin the wheel.
Ohhhh They tell him “Sire, you’re the brightest star!”
While they pick our pockets behind the bar.

Oh, ain't it fine? Ain't it grand?
making great again, the things we don’t understand?
oh Keep your head down, bite your tongue,
and once we are dead and gone, liberation will come.

Oh, the people whisper “Is he blind?”
Do they think, we`ve lost our mind?

Well, the rain still falls in a beggar’s hand,
While the big wheels roll across the stolen land.
They can scribble their rules in a backroom haze,
But our songs won’t kneel, and our thoughts won’t fade.

Oh, ain't it fine? Ain't it grand?
making great again, the things we don’t understand?
oh Keep your head down, bite your tongue,
and once we are dead and gone, liberation will come.