The High Priests of Finance

Here is where the High Priests sit,
In glorious robes of gold and silks,
Wielding rods of war and wealth,
Enslaving all nations via stealth,
For here amongst its most faithful,
Dwells the serpent ever wrathful,
Enthroned upon its whited sepulchre,
Within the walls of a red rose garden,
Pulling the strings of a puppet on stage,
Who can only follow the master plan,
Unleashing evil on the earth,
Within the cradle of its curse,
All things to all men its holy creed,
A global tyrant worshipping greed,
Three crowns adorn his scarlet brow,
Whilst before him the masses bow,
His power a plot of propaganda and lies,
His fame foul honey from media hives,
His is the all seeing eye atop our world,
The black tide that brings forth hell,
To the ringing of usurys golden bell,
And as generals mark their dusty maps,
Terrorists lay deadly snares and traps,
For liberty extradited from the Republic,
And shackled in cells of Cuban justice,
Whilst the gates of hell are now opening,
Inside the Oval Office of the White House.

Liberty is in heat again,
And ruts with pigs,
To pleasure evil men.

Mammon mounts its whore,
In a buckler of gold,
Squealing with wild delight.

Wet the slit of lascivious liberty,
Its swollen womb alive,
With a myriad new monstrosities.

The serpent suckles it young,
Sinister they gather,
As satellites in high orbit.