Atop the Tiger

It was easy mounting. Thus far, so good. Exhilarating turbulent ride. Riders need not worry at the moment. The kitty bursting with flesh and blood. The tiger is reined in perfectly. No end in sight. The limit is near but the tiger is tireless. Just up the ante. The tiger will gobble up everything on its path. There'll be no term limit. The riders may see the finish line but the tiger's blinders are working pretty well. They might just be running another lap again and again and again. The ride has produced wealth and stink beyond one's imagination. There's no sense in alighting from a mount that gives unheard of perks and privileges. One growl and the dog-like critics scamper with tails folded between the legs. Unsheathe the swords, there's no backing off. The head of state if wanting so much to be the head for life has got to be prepared to sacrifice no less than its head. My fellow riders just take it as it comes. So far the tiger is venting its ire on those who dare to cross its path. Never mind when in the end, without any more enemies to eat, our heads will end up inside its mouth. We'd be old and grey by then. Our heads are no problem, we've lost them since we mount the tiger. The lord, my lord, our lord is laughing greedily with us. That's all that matters.