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They danced around their indifferent queen

Awash with sycophantic song,

Wrapped in wings of self-importance

A proclamation to the world,

Their bonded suits of black and gold

Lent unity to their cause,

As with twist and turn they wove their spell

To lift them from our law.

With wafting wings they brushed aside

Our vision, fears and dreams,

While honey-laced their lattice work

Grew more distant by degrees,

And on the wing they took and took

Self-serving to the end,

With blindness turned to second-sight

And history of

Their next demise.

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