Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after, And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; He knew human folly like the back of his hand. And was greatly interested in armies and fleets; When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
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Date: 2006-12-24 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-24 08:00 am (UTC)Epitaph on a Tyrant
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand.
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.