Behold the man of plastic and air,
Waving one arm in the open air.
But lo, what form does that arm extend?
A rigid salute, no need to pretend.
Once hailed a genius, a king of the sky,
Now twisted by power, inflating a lie.
The crowd looks up, some cheer, some sneer,
As the wind of fortune shifts near.
He flaps, he flails, yet up he stays,
A hollow man in fleeting praise.
But even air runs out in time,
And all must fall from heights they climb.
