Citizens and land, mapped in blots.
Padre to them restored:
By the benevolent: the despot.
Foretold by the soothsayer
He won, matching dot to dot.

Creaking, turn
The tired wheels of history
Churning known misery,
Oft repeating.

This is the tale of a man
And the homeland: Padre.

For the world
He will smile
For cameras and reporters
The performance will cater.

Truths he spoke,
A man self-assured,
Craft has taught him, he has matured.

Words rolled forth like the splendid carpet he walked on.
Citizens gazed ahead
Their hearts twist,
Tortured to not break the spell
Of peace, this fortuned tryst.

For themselves and country
Plates half empty.
They worked for their bread.
Silence, for you suffered Padre,
And plenty.

Presumptuous, the dark masses
Took for granted he was good.
But alas there rose a man from the middle class
Who saw through political farce.

In search of salvation
Long they adored the villain
Till one in the crowd decided to kill him.