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...He taught himself to levitate,
even to solidify air,
and learned to use it as a shield,
he grew stronger without a care.

I guess it is bound to happen,
when power and resentment merge,
Anton decided to seek revenge
on all he felt had made him hurt.

His childhood bully strangled
without a mark upon his neck,
the girl who spurned him got knocked up
with a kid who was half-giraffe.

The professor who marked him down
found inside a great piece of stone,
a cruel boss was turned inside out
next to his wife, in his own home.

It got to the point that Anton
didn’t care if it was deserved,
helplessness brought him such great joy,
he fed upon the raw power.

But none could figure all this out,
real magic? Who would dare believe,
the idea just seemed such nonsense,
the truth of it no one could see.

But corruption destroys itself,
and Anton was no exception,
by thirty he felt he was a God,
need not fear others' intentions.

He’d sired hundreds of children,
manipulated countless lives,
but he’d done it all from shadow,
he now felt it his time to rise.

For what would the rest of man do?
His power was beyond their ken,
and why should he, with all this strength,
not rule over these normal men?

He made his move down in Times Square,
not long before John Lennon died,
walked out and yelled, “All bow to me!”
folks just looked on with confused eyes.

What kind of person talked like that?
several street punks just scoffed and laughed,
Anton just snapped his fingers and
they flew apart in a bloodbath.

Then came a giant lightning bolt
that charred several people alive,
“I am you lord!”he then called out,
“You will bow to me, or will die!”

Several police noticed this hell,
two of them quickly pulled their guns,
Anton made a shield of ‘hard’ air,
and blocked their bullets, every one.

He laughed at their powerlessness,
not noticing they had a third,
who raised his gun to Anton’s right,
and gave him just what he deserved.

Anton had not even seen the man,
just jolted, his temple was struck,
his brain exploded, he collapsed,
and that was the end of his luck.

The police hushed the whole thing up,
it was too bizarre to believe,
some feds came by, then his house burned,
with the books soaking in gasoline.

Why are there no more sorcerers?
Why have none else arisen yet?
It’s simple, our reaction times
just ain’t fast enough for a bullet.
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