#023 Copper Coin King

A poor man’s monarch, I stand above the masses.
A ruler of nothing but of change and of debt,

I spit on the graves of the lower-classes.

With my royal garments of velvet and velour hanging on by a thread,

the silver noose around my neck draws tighter yet.

After every disaster the crown demands blood.
So at the end of my line, I stand here alone;
Instead of bread and games, God has given us famine and flood.

I possess no sons, no riches, no castle nor golden throne.
My only legacy will be the inscription on my headstone.