The Fall of Rome
Woe be my forgotten city.
As I hang my head in pain and pity.
Of my lady I must implore,
Who to blame the loss of yore?
Was it the statesman and his evil ways?
His love of power and of praise.
Did he bring about these desperate days
And your ghastly fall from grace?
Was it the merchant and his greedy grin?
Golden drool dripping from his chin.
Was it he who warped the minds of men
And drowned you in this sea of sin?
Was it the cleric and his clever tongue?
His fiendish fetish for minds so young.
Was it he who hung the Holy One
And hid you from the golden Son?
No, I say it’s none of these,
These evil men and their evil deeds.
The lesson is clear through history,
Evil has ALWAYS come in threes.
Tis not these evil men and their evil deeds.
But that good men let them proceed.