Maybe I'm Just Getting Older

Vive La France

*In response to the literary work A Tale of Two Cities* 

"Vive La France"

Exhales the Royal Barber

The one who wields the

National Razor

Fitted in his ceremonial wardrobe

Headdress concealing his identity

Concealing his scars

Branded "Bastille Prisoner"

Imprinted in his memory

Are the visions that

Flickered through his mind

Of years going mad in a cell

Until the ground shook

And a tidal wave of

Vengeance eroded

Lineages of stone-faced

Nobles sitting on their

Goose feather pillows

Sipping on the sweat of the poor

During a time when the neglected

Became royalty and the

Royalty became a stain on the road

Crushed by their own carriages

When a crimson wine flowed through

The streets

Water into wine a thing of

The past

The new savior turning tears to blood

"Vive la France" echoing from

The lips stripped of their drink

Spilled on their chest

The parasites and vermin

Sat on thrones built from

The bones of a dying justice

That hate poisoned with its

Seductive touch

Vive La France flows

Through the streets

Of those who used to sip wine

From the cracks in the road

Of those who ate the crumbs

That were left behind by their children

Their children eating the crumbs that

Were left behind by the rich.

Those who left the bread crumbs

Standing before the two-faced frame

That summons the most powerful

To look through the window

And see what's on the other side

The "National Razor that shaves close"

Servicing even the elect of society

The wolves playing sheep so well

They bleated for help when the

Metal from their very own swords

Came down on their heads.