I can’t stand these daily corruptions
These inbred white collar
Their greasy smiles aren’t fulfilling their seductions
To slither their way to the throne.
With handfuls of cash to the giants in their towers
Whilst slapping the poor and those with no powers.
They cackle and dance with the devils for hours
Without realising they all die alone.
Bitter dark shadows in the land of the living,
All for themselves and no thought left for giving,
The take from a child’s mouth, dead to caregiving,
These blue zombies of old Westminster Palace.