Please don’t call me fascist, I just want these things to work,
don’t label my excitement, the source of all your hurt,
for your sluggishness, is the reason for my pain,
where I remain a pauper, in your mediocre reign!
Why do you make me want to mend, such a broken globe?
I should simply do my bit, and not think of a robe,
but in times of crooked crowns, and snakish sorry states,
I may have to vent it out, so I can overtake!