They should spend their last wretched days
Not surrounded by comfort,
in the ponds of their ilk
Your final few statements
come sounding through silk
Tyr ant s in spirit, if not by law,
devoid of all conscience,
Half -baked Medici without the art,
Drunk drivers shooting face in the dark,
none of them ever in harm's way
None of them ever in harm's way
we've seen their kind before,
When finally they succumb to their fate,
there'll be multiple thousands
as they step off the stage
Someone else suffers for every mistake
and they take what they take
Justice for those without means,
The one thing you learn is
Should spend their last wretched days
but they die of old age you