The Gilded Cage of the Epstein Class

I’d carve my name in granite, high and bold,

While I watch the city burn to tarnished gold.

A battleship of iron, salt, and pride,

To carry all the secrets I must hide.

I’d hold the gavel, freeze the shifting sands,

And clutch the ticking clock with shaking hands.

If shadows fall and voters turn away,

I’ll find a war to keep the light of day.

A "crisis" brewed to stop the coming tide,

With nowhere left for honesty to hide.

I’ll flood the zone with static and with lies,

Until the truth is buried in disguise.

The jungle grows with rules I’ve made of glass,

Where only those who kneel are allowed to pass.

But loyalty is brittle, bought with fear,

And whispers start when endings draw so near;

The ghosts of men who sold their souls for gain,

Are all that linger in the pouring rain.

To toast the heights of this, my dark success,

I’d call a phantom back from the abyss.

Let Epstein rise to join the velvet room,

To drink to power in the gathering gloom.

A celebration for the few, the cold—

The "Epstein Class" where everything is sold.