In gilted gold halls

Between wealth wrought walls

Came the last of the self-pronounced worthy

Their dresses and suits 

Swayed to silver flutes

Music divine and unearthly

And the satirists would depict

Just how all were tricked

And subjugated without mercy

 

Each position maintained 

And anger reigned

In a rife and rapacious rancour

Each being to steeped to see

Where stood their true enemy

As to where their perspectives were anchored 

Distant money would run

As water shimmering in the sun

In arrays only their foe could afford

Sidelong they stared

Their issues aired

In quiet contemplation langoured

 

In such a moment allied at last

These factions prised from the past

A strength in aid of conviction 

All reticence fled 

They fought and they bled

Forward, their only direction 

Their thirst would be slaked

For they were able to break

From the cavalcade of contradiction 

As the wheel did turn

When the opulence burned

In a scene defying all depiction