What waits for us, now that the bird has flown
Whilst the Tory beast drags the weak to its lair?
What happens now to the poor who are thrown
To the Tory feeding frenzy, in their despair?
The foul beast will play with their prey yet awhile
While the spectators are regaled with new lines,
The helpless subjugated until completely servile
With cold scorn poured upon he who repines.
We will reap what we sow in the bonfire of the fallen.
We will be the designers of a new social paradigm.
Fuck them, the weak, the poor and their children,
They’re just the shit on the path, as we climb.