When did it all fall apart?
A bill given Royal assent?
A memo sent on some Friday in November?
A million bad decisions by a million stupid people?
Or merely, a bite into an apple?
It’s a Great Game,
Played for our amusement,
We, the vulgar and profane.
But deadly serious,
And a contest to the end,
For those born into it.
Lost lives lived and still,
They circle around the pale blue flames
Faces lit,
Beauty and laughter in the light,
Horror and madness as the shadows fall.
Black and White, Light and Dark,
All end in the same place,
Bound, howling in terror and rage,
Cast into the Outer Darkness,
For an eternity plus a day.
By W. N. Branson 
