The Nobodaddy rolls 
  like a sunglassed Santa Claus.

He watches things crash
  with bemused satisfaction --
   like a buzzed NASCAR fan.

And people cry out to him,
  and he gives a spiritless wave 
   of vague acknowledgement --
    like a celebrity tired of celebrity.

But the victims all die,
   and Nobodaddy calls it a day,
    a day of seeing life & death play out -
     not in any grand design -
      but puttering about as the living 
       bow to life,
        and the dead play out a demise.