Herod

What am I supposed to do, crown the Brat?
Strange men from the east strange, mad stories tell,
We must take action, crush such rumours flat,
To protect our power, that fragile shell.
Do what needs to be done at Bethlehem,
A star has risen – blot it out quickly,
Tear out the roots and crush the Infant stem,
Kill all infants, let their blood run thickly.
Don’t look at me like that, all mortal thrones
Are painted bright with blood, all earthly might
Builds palaces chiefly of human bones,
Our swords shall win and men shall call it right.
Life can be difficult, maybe we’re scum,
But how else can we save my own kingdom?

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