The Latest Truth

On silent days, we walk this silent land,
O'er which both friends and foe do nightly fight.
Great Lords do go to war for common man;
Contented men but wallow in their plight.
As bust men do that which makes them great,
Their serpent pet does on it's lonesome play,
With common man's early earmarked fate,
And as it's masters work it's forked tongue slays.
Contented men when stopped to think to balk,
As fatal thoughts from fearful brows do spring.
Through gauntlets, set for flight, do they then walk,
And comment on the wisdom of their King.
The eve call close contented watchers face,
The Serpent Beast is here to take it's place.