Nero aint got nothin on us.
He may have danced while his city burned,
Well we shoot off fireworks, mere blocks from
towers of fire, and shout
in celebration of banal and fruitless

triviality

Turning in shame and fear
from the looming future
collector of debts
Thinking in vain
To shun he who comes for all.

Revel in bread and circuses,
the wild mad show, such fun to behold.
And pay no mind to the gunfire.