Sound the hollow victory bugles loud.
Warm ashes keep piling up all the night.
Stand tall at bumbledoms loud gloating pyre.
For many more countrymen could have lived.
Your victories engulf our dreary homes.
With long looney shadows of eternal death.
Rejoice, revel in ravines of darkness.
Knowing the virus does not hear, vote, care.
Fraud us with a thousand covert faces.
And hide it with your brazen, facile smile.
We hope to see you face to face someday.
When you cross over the measures of life.
If you weren’t caught up in celebrations.
You would have seen it coming unannounced.