A Crowd of White Muses

The Orchestra strings its take
Upon which the brethren
Of singers and dancers
Move their mark

Before the crowd they gaze
In glamour-ridden eyes
Freeing the only contempt
For which the night lives,

As this, the song, do they
So humbly echo outward
In a fashioned design
Similar to the Paradise

‘Of the guns of Rome
In swift desire,
To seize the throne,
And fight with fire’

Mama, did they sing so
Quaintly with their
Nights of shining armor,
As a Knight in white

‘And you,
Brute of ancient rue,
Could mock and wither
This torrid soul hither’

Promptly came the end
Of their beloved
Selves in worship

As the White and Green man
Fell evermore
Into the blackened heart—
The endless blood

Of none more conquered
‘Thirty-three times
Did I face this fate
Eating our sin

And wasting in hate’
And now we look onward
While a new King in White
Lives this age

By the name of earthen green
‘They have me
Misunderstood
And underestimated

My glory’
As the next of kin
In the White majestic
Rue of victory,

Come,

Give me the world,

Amidst a crowd of White Muses.