The seventh hour brings a sparkling time,

Full of rhythm and plenty of rhyme

But t’day’s seventh hour,

is a time to cower

An edifice, so tall and true,

brought down by a check, long overdue

Having no goal,

but to lose your self-control

Being an edifice,

I looked up to you,

but you let me down.

Being an edifice, 

I strained to see your eyes

but they were filled with rage

and then it hit me,

not your stone cold fist,

but a revealance

That I was now looking down

upon the edifice, now run-down

The one that made me feel done,

was not the one who won.