Fallen kings
Glass in hand , wishkey on floor.
Feet on air, head by the door.
Toxic clouds, lungs full of smoke.
Repugnant ordor of the festered soul.
Baring of teeth, eyes full of woe.
Dirty pockets bulging with gold.
Pretty faces, staring with awe,
Longing to save the corrupted soul.
Every little grunt, a story untold,
Every word uttered, undisputed law
Live like gods till the yellow metal flows
Empty coffers, a carcass by the road.