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Let the right ones in |
Trojan [Pantheon, epilogue] Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Et tu, Brute?... his part ends; the Great Trojan Ass has been called in, on the lies that he could not defend As the parasites spill from its carcass, teflon cladding, long battle-worn, slipped; impressively smooth, it is marked less, than you'd think, taking note of the script Taking note of the script that we've lived through, of the lines that we've swallowed, obtuse; the letters and words that don't ring true, and the sentences lost through abuse Through abuse of a system flawed, lacking, even now high born lackeys mass low; spilling out of the horse, that was packing, ... such parasites travel in tow Behind clownish masks, rigged, they caper, a passport to power, stained blue; hollow promises turned into vapour, manifestos burned, patience strained, through Through five years, indentured, hard labour, and ten years preceding the farce; in peace time, they rattle their sabre, lacking the words... lacking class Lacking in morals, in foresight, living the here and now; eleven long years to set things right, yet still, we're still worse off somehow It runs deeper, runs further than Brexit, tracks back long before Covid was here; it would seem somehow 'truth' made an exit, the first casualty, truth... project fear with gaslighting blue, incandescent, 'midst gatherings leaded and manned; yet somehow found legally present, at said parties judged wrongfully planned A penalty fixed he won't notice, sums so paultry, not more than small change; a sling strung along for the voters, shots fired, conspired, close range and so now, Goliath has fallen, final shred of asbestos vest burnt; with speeches left stuttered and stallen, Achilles' flawed ankle, has turned Spurned by the ones that he partied, alongside the other mistakes; but the race, it has only just started, as dark horsemen line up in his wake with Pegasus finally grounded, wings clipped long blonde, cut short midflight; an emporor's clothes left unfounded, what was new, can get old overnight with burnt wings, sunbound, waxed, scorched, melted, and Icarus shot down in flames; tarred and feathered, drawn, quartered and welted pelted, left cooling off in the Thames Ran stagnant and tepid, the state calls, red lines scrawled so late in sand; aneamic blue blood runs down red walls, with hypocrisy high where hearts land At ground zero, such mushroom clouds settle, an effort to heal the cleft; peddling wares, testing mettle, from the carcass the Joker has left whilst clowns from the very same circus, seem to spill from the same paltry car; despite the suave carved equine surface, ... with Greeks bearing gifts from afar |