A man of higher standings, a man of astute
Said his final words: “Et tu, Brute?”
Ides of March, Italy, Rome
He had that feeling of doubt, a feeling of prodrome
Little did he know he’d be caught in a blunder,
But who is this man, you may come to wonder?
Well, he was cunning and power-hungry, simply fanatic;
A dictator so surely charismatic,
For he could make opinions sway
But the senators weren’t quite happy with the choices Caesar made.
They weren’t fond of his arrogance and dictatorship
“He strayed far from his beginnings, he’s betraying the script!”
And so that council, they had a decree,
Even his best friend was inclined to agree
The council turned to a solution full of misdemeanor and crime,
Stabbed that man, Caesar, twenty-three times.
They called out to the people; “this death was for the good of Rome!
For it is our humble home!
Don’t blame us for this tyrannicide!
That man, Caesar, he was destined to fall and destined to die!
We were merely just ending his life before any more harm he could cause
Nothing would’ve stopped his death, not even bandage or gauze
Or words critiquing our outlandish behaviors
Please believe us when we say that we are your saviors.
This, it was a long time coming, and that we both know,
His death is what we needed for Rome to further grow.
We did what we could, so don’t give us any blame,
Don’t mourn his death, please don’t hang your head in shame,
For this was the only option to solve the problem from where it once started,
I’m sorry, Julius, wherever you are, but our opinions were parted
Though I assure you; our apologies are wholehearted
Over the grief that we have carted
So find it in your heart to forgive all forty of us,
Though this isn’t a manner we can so easily discuss.”