and folks against him have to pay
Well, the chlorine, phosgene and mustard gas,
Some are killed and some are dead
Our story is about an Alawiten chap.
Inherited a misfortune, coparcener of the trap.
But when brother and father died; the parliament lied,
and then became the youngest ruler
at the age of only thirty-four!
Russian hopes are still alive
weapons and order are things to strive
And how could the west agree to such play
in a battle of fossil on the lands of clay
And then they fought with every conceivable arm
of verbal diplomacy and illusion of panic.
For the state is hanging on a thin wire,
there never went a day without the fire
of guns, explosives, and other kinds of explosives.
Everyone speaks but no one bothers!
Sliced in between is the plebeian soul
dubious destiny in a bottomless hole
they cry, then yell, then choke with fear
Like father like son, hard to hear.
Let them say he was a ruler of times
when euphemisms of war were prevalent
when reasoning was unsound and logic was profane
Counting his last days, the Barbarian of today!