when fear was king, we gathered in our millions, to tell each other just how great we were; we owned the army, had our hands on trillions, and though, yes, death and tragedy occurred, we royal ones, we understood in grandeur that this was now the best of us in charge; and even if our crowds were full of frotteur, this was the smallish price of living large. when fear was king, we knew and were not silent: we stapled to our thumbs each word and phrase that made us pure of heart, if rather violent, yet out from out unfavorable phase when someone else was king, or queen, or ruler -- out selling fears we could not call our own -- how sad we've lost the world of our complacence, when we could idolize a putrid throne
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I learned a new word – frotteur – many contrafibulations for its inclusion!
Yeah, fair, it was pretentious, but it fit and it rhymed.
Very nicely too!