To his dying breath
He will curse the wickedness of the tyrants—
His veins bulging, and beet-red in the face—
Thundering away at their transgressions
And calling down the fires of perdition
On their damnable heads.
And as God is his witness,
This is how he will live out his days
Unless he himself should have opportunity
To be the tyrant—
In which case, tyranny’s probably not so bad as all that
And you’ve got to look at it more practically.
