Palaces full of opulence,

pale faces and blue bloods.

Gross was your existence,

treating the less like mud.

You will know the cobblestones,

and the chaos of the world outside.

Witness the violence and bones,

outside of the velveteen in which you hide.

Those gowns aren't armour,

palaces are not castles.

Outside your ill gotten court,

and unstained tassels.

We will break down your doors,

drag you screaming into the streets.

So you can see which you adore,

and the bodies covered in sheets.

Richesse brought to heel,

necks on the block.

'This is how you kneel'

the baying mob did flock.

Justice served in public,

under lady guillotine.

A once thick neck,

will remain finally unseen.

Revolution will make all equal,

be it money or bloodline.

This will be the cull,

that will seem devine.

'Ca Ira, Ca Ira'

...

i love you Baby

...

i am currently researching about the french revolution.