The Rites of Wrong

How could I be so wrong

About being so goddamn right

How could I do it for so long

And lose the goddamn fight

How could I walk along

The path without my sight

Why hum along to the song

Of the Sirens in the blight

How could I bang a loyal gong

To the rhythmic staccato of might

And play to only the royal strong

And the changing tunes they write

Why do I long to so belong

To the ones who sit so tight

Above the tongues of hangers-on

Who only thirst for height

The pyramid that seems to spawn

Keystones of kings, alight

Who roll downhill to the pawns—

Like them--and me--alike

Winners and losers start out at dawn

The same and equal, despite

The change they will have undergone

Of lifetimes overnight

Abundance and effacement march on

Some accruing, others lost in fright

Once I succumbed to the rites of wrong

I'd lost the goddamn fight