A Cautionary Tale

Oh ignorant man, non-believer of diplomacy
We feast and we dine, possessed by the Bacchae
You prowl and you peek, and dance on foreign land
Forgetting your fathers and their fated ruin

Shout Shout, you will only reveal your position 
Louder then, and those who you've fitted
Will be your last fit
No matter what dialect you let on,
Whether blunt or in tongues
Bewitched by our nature we see only a stag
You are no longer ruler, nor speaker, nor man
Eaten by your own parade
That once cheered your name

-Viana