Glorious Greece in silver urn,
While pompous Rome histories burn.
From old to young a story's told;
Wealth built on blood and gold.
History is what history was,
Again to do as it always does.
Men with stature once so tall
Had riches high before the fall
Empires come as well they go
To self destruct by seeds they sow.
They who have others bled
Shall by others own be shed.
And winds shall blow past our tomorrow
As Sparta and Rome, from grand to sorrow.