Obamandias I met a traveller from a bankrupt land
 Who said: Two vast and empty vaults of stone
 Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
 Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
 And fly-ridden lip, and sneer of cold command,
 Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
 Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
 The hand that built that and the heartless Fed:
 And on the teleprompter these words appear:
 "My name is Obamandias, Kenyan king: 
Look on my works, ye Whitey, and despair!" 
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
 Of that hope and change,...