Usurper

A generation lost to debt, an Empire up in flames.
Fat, gluttonous and greedy, the bankers ate the blame.

All nations hope lies dwindling, beneath a shroud of lies, as swollen cats sit on fences, and witness our crafted demise.

The youth are just revolting, the peasants follow suit.
Politicians hide the intentions, of the cancer at the root.

On the throne of the usurper, a broken figure sits.
The river of wealth flowing to him, bleeding back into his wrists.

The flow was once unending, now the gold is in retreat.
All nations die when the river runs dry, the usurper is sensing defeat.