|
Stakes and torches, |
|
Scimitars and bayonets, |
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Scythes, pitchforks, |
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A sickle with a sharpened edge. |
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Swords and spades, |
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And mallets that are made of lead. |
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Anything at hand, |
|
Anything that can, |
|
Help us to remove the head |
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Of that filthy rich, |
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Fat son of a bitch, |
|
While he's sleeping in his bed. |
|
(Instrumental bridge) |
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Storm the steps, |
|
We break into the palace hall. |
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It's so majestic, |
|
We are frozen in our awe. |
|
Grandmother cries as she crumples to her knees, |
|
says, "I can understand, |
|
That the rich demand, |
|
An amount of luxury. |
|
But I'd have never dreamed, |
|
It was so extreme, |
|
While we had nothing to eat." |
