Right hand raised left plant stickers picking out the deviant
The choice of colours inclinations factions that he only led
Wants them dead, kills them in his mirror when it’s dark
And when he thinks that no-one’s watching
Spreads the spraypaint leaves his mark
Swastikas shout out from walls they’re tattooed on a million fists
Clenched together, safe in numbers waving from the precipice
Fodder plod on down their icey path cannons waiting for the fodder
Enlightenment comes with a blast bang a bang a bang a bang
Another place, a different story fingers play with stale cigars
Business creeks, the warehouse leaks the chairman sold his daughters car
Reading charts sharpening knives we’re cutting when the time seems right
Get (for?) him alone a voice for mercy if the victim’s out of sight
Quality’s a word for quits shout out as the batons swing
It’s beautiful in theory he knows it’s not for him
He’s got his fodder…
Take your (higher) places, clocks chime for the meeting of the lords
(they share the?)
Its discreet as guilty secrets cos no shame behind closed doors
Portion for the megabom, portion for the queen
Can forget the army or the law, we got to keep the cities clean
And sure they know they’ll get their way their protests echo from the streets
(the blood is thicker from the streets?)
His hired guns and sheets of armor gives them shelter through the heat
The fodder…
There’s other bullets, other wars, where justice cries in shiny red
Reason dies, and passion burns persuasion’s just a hole in the head
Urges after midnight, no discretion in the mass
A volley, the silence as they cover up the mess
Don’t kid yourself, we’re civilized — could happen anywhere
In choking cities, steaming jungles — maybe even here!