Off to work he goes

He went to work one day
Came home with a might axe
He waved a gold-encrusted hand
Everything was fine, everything was fine

” ‘Tis not to be,” the microphones said.
He lamented the passage of time
Said time itself was unfair
The insults only made him age more quickly

Time increased in response
Off to work he went
To Mar-a-Lago

The stampede was increasing
Everyone thought themselves a victor
But the tides were changing
Gold-encrusted hands withered too

A victor’s clap
But the tides made up their minds
They wouldn’t be restricted to a year’s time
Humans kept writhing, determined to evolve beyond twelve months
But in the heat of it, three hundred and sixty five moons seemed like an eternity

Oh well

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