II-XV In a Basement With Bertha Mason

In my kingdom, I am free of rules,

each night descends to play me for a fool.

The day departs, desires unfulfilled,

though all I own, my heart remains unreal.

Ah, what sorrow, what lament,

a sad incarnation, a life misspent.

To define this form is a mighty task,

while peasants’ skin in brilliance bask.

My jewels, they dull, my jesters strain,

to force a laugh, but in vain.

My presence, a burden masked with grace,

yet all around, the pretense, they place.

Suddenly, like lightning strikes the night,

ambition’s flame ignites my plight.

I want the world, to conquer all,

I want Rome under Nero’s thrall,

for a moment’s notice in nights of mirth,

as men revel in joy, evil.

As once a foolish poet did declare

“Why seek riches when emptiness is there?”,

why with so much do I feel bereft?

With everything, why am I left?

Ah, what sorrow, what lament,

A sad incarnation, a life misspent.

Agrippina my mother,

taught me well, yet I grasp no more.

I burned a city to light my night,

played my lyre, watched their plight.

I schemed and lied, took lives with ease,

spread fear and strife like a disease.

For why with so much do I feel I lack?

With all the world, I still look back.

Ah, what sorrow, what lament,

A sad incarnation, a life misspent.