Fruitless Fortunes

The fascists and their many guises

Anarchists and their fantasizing

It seems sometimes they're sailing the same boat

Politicians mesmerizing throngs of automated souls

As some similar psycho's screwing on the scope

I'm leaving town

To join sophisticates in my head

We'll have our fun playing the hypocrite critic

And when all the creatures in their palaces are crushed

I can safely say "I'm coming home"

Fairy tales and fruitless fortunes

Acquired from some sad story teller

Can sometimes be enough to keep me mum in my keep

Organ grinders orating overtures of madness

As the heinous hipster's spending his unearned currency

There may be many ways of reaching the same plateau

I'll take the road less traveled

If it looks like it ain't been sold

The chains around my neck won't break

But at least they're made of solid gold