He knows the pit of Hell awaits his soul.
He knows they cannot take him while he rules.
He’ll lie, and cheat, and steal, to keep his throne.

He fears justice.
He fears irrelevance.
He fears oblivion.

…but no king can live forever.

But still, he feels eternally maligned.
No satisfaction ever to be found;
no art, no love, no awe of the divine.

He performs charisma.
He performs authority.
He performs humanity.

His emptiness will never be fulfilled.

We know the Gilded King has secret ties.
We know the Shadow King pulls at his strings.
We know his vile deeds, his threats and lies.

But the politicians are complicit,
and the oligarchs are complicit,
and the media are complicit,

and justice can’t be served if no one acts.

The Gilded King makes sure we all can see
the men, the jets, the nukes at his command
Why else would every power bend the knee?

So money is traded,
and influence is traded,
and people are traded,

and no one wants to bite the hand that feeds.

He’s never known the hollow throb of need:
born to a gilded cradle; set for life.
Still, nothing ever satiates his greed.

His rule is his birthright.
Our fealty is his birthright.
The girls’ bodies are his birthright.

He knows that good things come to those who take.

The Gilded King upon his gilded throne:
a modern Midas, heedless of the tale.
No pleasure can surpass the sheen of gold.

There is nothing better than gold.
He paves over history with gold.
He drowns his kingdom in gold.

What better, then, than making deals for more?