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They marched in millions chanting down the street,
Their captured likeness published in the Post.
Rewarded citizens retake their seat;
(His subjects satisfied) They brag and boast.  

They file back inside their business park,
No choice when keeping families afloat;
"At least on 'Climate Day' I made my mark,
At least that little history I've wrote." 

The King in roars goes stomping through this place;
He rends the trees and tears at mountain skin.
His human guards asleep in drunken space,
From royal gifts of blackened fossil gin.

An oiled Curse doth reign; the Earth He wrecks.
This evil Thing. Tyrannosaurus Hex.

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