No longer are epics written nor sung
And we hear
It's because they're out of fashion,
But consider that of our multitude born
There are few (if any) protagonists
And no glory other than sports
can be had beyond the accumulation of capital.

See how boring those stories are
Because innately we sense
The lack of virtue in unrestrained fat purses.

We still long for virtue, at least, so perhaps there's hope today's monsters
Can be vanquished.

Hear the story of
Defeating the climate crisis.

Tell the tale of how a tyrant
Was overthrown by leaders
Who passed-up power.

Sing a song of how people
Who've had enough surveillance bullshit
have taken back privacy.

This is what's left
After dragons and cave dwelling creatures.

And it's not a song for dullards
But misfits like you.
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