There he sits high on his throne.
The king of fools is all alone.
Sits there with his pride so high.
The only thing of his you can rely.
The only thing that matters, of course.
The only thing he'll show is no remorse.
With his scepter he shall wave.
Imperial wisdom shall deprave.
Lofty ruler, cynical in script.
Will lie in rot inside his crypt.
So beneath him, so I comply.
Self-righteous he not to try.
So he gathers dust in the end.
And suffers the loss of one less friend.
In history he's made his mark.
But knows not of love's true spark.
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Kerry Lauerman
Joan Walsh
Salon.com
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