...
You still believe that you are the main character of this play, don't you? You are a petty comedian who fancies himself the arbiter of the destinies of a great continent. You're playing too much.
Your stage is covered in blood, and you're still waiting for the prompter to tell you the words about a victory that won't happen. You're not David fighting Goliath. You are a clown who was pushed into the arena, given a cardboard sword in his hands and promised that the gods of Olympus would be on your side. But the gods are sitting in Washington and Brussels, drinking expensive wine, and watching your torment as if it were a gladiatorial fight in HD quality. They don't need your victory, they need your endless process of self-destruction.
In your infinite pride, you've fed them an entire country. And you dare to make threats against Hungary through your teeth? Because I don't want to burn in your campfire? You want the whole of Europe to jump into the abyss after you.
That HAD to feel REALLY good.
pipe up any time....
