nought my king
this neuralgia of the nation
this agony of times
the proletariat protest my lord
the clandestine complexion of your crimes
apply your uniforms as a neural block
apply to their hands and brains
as they genuflect their bended backs
as you reach for their votes on reigns
no sire the past is past my Lord
no future reigns supreme
it’s over now bar the counting out
it’s over now your regal dream
the worms have turned
the worms that once were bait
have told you to sling your hook
for you have left it far too late
tapestries are threadbare now
tapestries that dwell long on heraldry
portraits fall from palace walls
portrait’s of grandeur’s bigotry
return your medals to the box
return them to the proletariat
the end is nigh exclaim vox populi
the end is nigh and that is that
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