The Romans talked in slurred speech,

Twisted and fanciful all the same,

But all the more convoluted when

Cupid's arrows have slain


A battered thing was the world

In the wake of the wanton Romans,

A romance of cruel kindness,

A legacy of blindness


Where did the true Romans prowl

When all the dust was layed

Marked were all the graves,

Yet in the end there was no heart


No line of power that connected them

The Earth and Rome fell apart.