When the credits finally roll
For this, the worst story ever told
Don't bother sifting through the names
For yours or anyone you know
Unless they were by chance a shepherd king
A virgin birth, a resurrection, a messianic prince
Or some such childish thing
You can storm the edit suite
Or move to block its theatrical release
But I think we can safely guarantee
That there will be no revisions to the script
Made on behalf of a supporting cast(e)

Cause history exalts
Only the pornography of force
That of murderers and psychopaths
(The rest of us, of course
Stricken from the narrative wholesale
A back drop to the tale)

As we, the two-bits
Are ushered on and swiftly off this stage
With the jawbones of asses
No stirring curtain call for the masses
No floral bouquet, no breaking of legs
No recurring role, no artistic control

And so in these days
In this terminal phase
It's all left to chance
A piece of advice
If you're cast on thin ice
You may as well dance

Do what you feel you must
But as for me I was not
Put upon this earth
To subjugate or serve