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.