R is for...

All those years, fibre into precious metals
- the smell of shit obscured by rose-tinted petals.
Had we but sooner guessed his name,
put an end to the eternal game,
the bubble blowing,
growing impossibly, ludicrously vast.
Blast! Such a big balloon must
burst with a sound heard all over the world.

Look at Rumpelstiltskin run;
the King has learned dwarvish
for 'recession'.