A land raped to the last fruit, a prison of excess,
Its hoarded plunder rots from the core,
Its people feed and shit in place.
And at the top you stand, and inexorably sink,
A bastard claimant to a bastard throne.
All right to rule you have sold for this hour,
Your fleeting self-image as God's final word.
Go back to your stall where all men are made equal,
Where you were made equal, let another will triumph!
...Let the will triumph!
Open the gates, but who among them will leave the warmth?
Let darkness fall, and curse him who dares to light a torch.
Fearing the open eye, the open mind,
The gulf yawns beneath you... as you swing.
Do you still fear change, or will you change your ways?
Accept it or vanish and be vilified forever.