I find that in the peril of your own discourse, for your own selfish gain, at your countryman’s downfall by your hand, you have pushed the hopes and dreams and fears of millions between a curtain of lies and vacant promises. You torture the ears of dreamers with offerings to your sycophants, with unattainable luxuries, for those who do not have the courage to speak the truth to you. You render the people hopeless while you guide their piteous dreams with the promise of liberty, prosperity, and freedom, as long as they yield to the demon of your creation. But you too will falter, like all those despots before you, like their shattered statues, for you have come to the end, you have come to the top, to the inevitable reward of stolen leadership, soon to fall from your golden pedestal into your cesspool of fake truths and wasted lives.
The lives we have is a matter of chance. The way we live them must be a matter of choice.