Don’t tell us what to say; we know what to do,
Voting for a criminal to slide in snake boots,
Your hissing and reprobation makes to silence debate,
No offering for a solution,
Creating problems, dressed in the art of rhetoric.
The word is that the war is left with right,
I’m ambidextrous and ambivalent,
With a mouth sewn shut, so I start a bonfire.
No lies can derail us,
A puppet’s wires spun, and spun.
Convince us of your reason; cannibals of national pride.
We work until our tendons become unravelled,
Victims of legislation, but our rights are read to us, forced to abide,
We seek shelter, but you offer a mass-produced following,
Your factory is industrial; we escape on digital enterprise,
The truth is what is mine is yours;
A criminal in a suit profits more that you, or I.