Seneca foresaw the fall of Rome,
He saw the double dealing
And the special pleading,
The slaves in consort with the senators,
The mob howling for more blood,
Apollo succeeded by Mercurius,
The victor's laurels on a villain's brow,
One more traffic jam at the Via Appia,
Echoing down the senseless centuries,
To the latest day.

The Coliseum is a mighty ruin,
We drive by, unheeding,
Better to build mansions in heaven,
To store treasures in,
Prometheus is bleeding.