The kings and queens sit upon thrones
From the balcony they gaze upon.
The peasants smell up the seats all around.
Some ones that feel lucky are seated closest.
At least their sound is pure
And of a place of good nature.
Celebrating
Their little victory.
When the kings and queens celebrate
It is unjust and ugly
They triumph with wealth and know no real pleasure.
When something plays out
They smile with dollar signs
Stuck in their teeth.
They built this house
Sullen with gold array,
Unfortunate display
Of power and pigheadedness.
We sit and enjoy the fruits in which they’ve sprouted.
We do not see through the curtain.
We come to see,
Leave.
The money has already been counted.
Nothing has changed other than time.
We’ve cushioned them in such ways we will never know
This side of satisfaction
Ringing out in clearness.
Our happiness is theirs
And we can’t escape from that.