The Commoner Pt. 2

As I walk to the earthen, smoggy kingdom,
my brethrens carried torches to behead the throne
What wailing sounds they were in the distance!
I hear they offer graves to merchants
“...for breakfast?” the baron asks,
No ration to them who defiled the land!
And so I sold my book to a catalogue
of old-age fairytales and that wondrous ode,
Oh but their pulled legs betrayed their uncouth mouths!
Them words sung by angels, such majestic sorcery,
I would’ve carried my torch, if only lunacy was my mastery!