On my return, they'll throw a grand parade,
A celebration of my victories
Like the triumphs of old Rome. My crusade
Of purity will excise the disease
That has for too long eater at our core.
To save my people, I must make them bleed.
Oh, I will do things that they will abhor,
But they will know that it is what they need
And after each campaign I can be sure
That I'll return to another parade
From my subjects, so frightened yet so pure.
I won't care that it's become a charade
For my hears is small, and my sins are vast
And when I die, they will all say "At last."