License
We give each other license
To justify the violence
We relate to satisfaction
Relegating our inaction
To a higher power
The fashion of the hour
Changing with the time
The constant's our reflection
That the state of our perfection
Disdaining all inspection
In the state of our connection
To the mantle of the Don
But will it ever dawn
That ground shifts all the time
Like the mantle underneath us
Some things should be beneath us
Croesus wouldn't be the one
That would or could impress Solon
Just as a fool and all his money
Are destined to part company
All that matters is the time
So just as a marriage license
Recognizes loves' intransigence
Romancing love as love of power
Is but convenience of the hour
And the short term satisfaction
Will result in but the fraction
As it's turning on a dime
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