The majesty is fast in fade,
The purple is receding;
The clouds that lately come have stayed,
The punctured truth is bleeding

The howitzer of human voice
Is all its shells now firing,
They stacked the odds against real choice
All wrapped up in admiring

The patron saint of ‘only seemed’,
Of phony staged largesse;
A life of noise and endless words
And secrets none confess

Upon the lies are stacked more lies,
The realm of toad and fawner;
And purple mountain’s majesty
Now dies for lack
Of honor