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I saw a newspaper picture from the political campaign |
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A woman was kissing a child, who was obviously in pain |
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She spills with compassion, as that young child's face in her hands she grips |
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Can you imagine all that greed and avarice coming down on that child's lips |
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Well I hope I don't die too soon |
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I pray the Lord my soul to save |
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Oh I'll be a good boy, I'm trying so hard to behave |
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Because there's one thing I know, I'd like to live long enough to savour |
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That's when they finally put you in the ground |
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I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down |
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When England was the whore of the world, Margaret was her madam |
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And the future looked as bright and as clear as the black tar macadam |
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Well I hope that she sleeps well at night, isn't haunted by every tiny detail |
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'Cos when she held that lovely face in her hands all she thought of was betrayal |
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And now the cynical ones say that it all ends the same in the long run |
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Try telling that to the desperate father who just squeezed the life from his only son |
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And how it's only voices in your head and dreams you never dreamt |
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Try telling him the subtle difference between justice and contempt |
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Try telling me she isn't angry with this pitiful discontent |
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When they flaunt it in your face as you line up for punishment |
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And then expect you to say "Thank you" straighten up, look proud and pleased |
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Because you've only got the symptoms, you haven't got the whole disease |
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Just like a schoolboy, whose head's like a tin-can |
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Filled up with dreams then poured down the drain |
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Try telling that to the boys on both sides, being blown to bits or beaten and maimed |
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Who takes all the glory and none of the shame |
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Well I hope you live long now, I pray the Lord your soul to keep |
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I think I'll be going before we fold our arms and start to weep |
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I never thought for a moment that human life could be so cheap |
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'Cos when they finally put you in the ground |
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They'll stand there laughing and tramp the dirt down |
