Senator,

You believe the word of an Oathbreaker, who is a lapdog to a mad Creator that would hoodwink each and every mortal.

You are patroned by a liar, who is lapdog to that Oathbreaker that champions oppression and tyranny.

My words were never for you - you are already lost. So is that miserable sack of flesh that warms your bed, too, by the sounds of it.

My words were for your citizens that you continue to shackle, abuse, and deceive. You are no pinnacle of freedom for so long as you believe the lies served to you on their silver platter.

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 24th of Niuran, in the year 500 MA.