Like the mighty Alexander the Great, my hero, my namesake, I am a conqueror. I am ruthless where needed, gracious where asked. Humanity reveres me, hails me a hero. The smart fear me, get out of my way. The innocent hope to catch a glimpse, to touch the hem of my garments. The rest get trampled underfoot, and still I’m respected for it, applauded.
Hmmm, comparing yourself to Alexander the Great does make a weird kind of sense, after all, he did kill his best friend while roaring drunk. Maybe that is the reason why Lex holds himself in rigid control?
You can’t take any of it with you, but I’ll die atop my pile of money, at the top of my tower, at the height of my fame and popularity, and still be laughing all the way to the grave.
So sad. He might laugh at those last fleeting moments, but later on their will be no one to mourn him. Perhaps that is the greatest tragedy.
Excellent work Mouse!
