The Last Lear

Through the paintings on wall

And the tapestries made of gold

Simmering on the surface

Just beneath the visible layer

Is the dying truth

The Last Lear

And the paintings were sold

And the tapestries are now old

But the lustre of the truth remains

Though invisible to those that can’t comprehend

The beginning of the end

Where toy soldiers pretend

With their plastic guns & hollow slogans

With the mothers’ prayers unheard

And the dead lies on the big chair

The Last Lear

The cravings they get

Of blood, tears & sweat

And the dying words that might mean something

The harangue is in vain

The pretenders are in pain

And the only wisdom lies in the insane

The last man that tried to reunite the world

Was hung on a cross & left to bleed

Conquest of the mind is the last & true fight

While the bombs are dropped in the dead of night

The future is now, the end is near

Sits on the throne the last Lear