Look at you—
so high and mighty.
Your royal robe soaked in
the croaks of your rivals.
Not drenched in red,
but in blue.
What a king you are—
A tyrant with a hollow empire.
Freedom is lost in the overreaching
hand of the throne.
We watch as the crook throws his stubby brute hands.
In speech, his haughty laughter bellows out—
“For I am not a tyrant, your savior I am!”
A false savior.
A disgusting creep
with a wrinkled forehead, and
a crooked blue smile.
When the tyrant smiles showing his bloody blue teeth,
you know it is over.
But, little does the big man know those in
his churning dominion yell back,
“For you are not a savior!
Down with the bloody blue king!”