Throne Tomb

Power's heights are misery depths 

Nietzche was right about the will 
But it's an addiction to break 
Rather than an impulse to superchase

To be of whichever soil is close 
To one's feet
And become according to 
The seasonal breeze 

Beats by far the impulse 
To take over 
Make history 

A loss of life 
To the principle
Of cheating death