God Save The Queen
Stare at yer tits and yer big fat wrists
The mundane malice, you can keep your fucking palace
Don’t need no direction, I’m a loose cannon. The lineage stutters, attempts flutter
I’m not saluting in this zero-hour.
Laissez-faire racism, look at those fucking chinks
Casual being, no future prevailing, post empire jilts no sense of belonging
Don’t need no hierarchy to get where I’m fucking going.
Parasites looking puzzling, lost in a modern setting
Tinpot views dictating ones being, selling out to to whom ever is bidding
Docile plants can’t wait to wither, fuck off, I’m sick of your chitter-chatter
I’ve an idea, I’ll build my own fucking pillar and roar like a loin.
Stately scum and Nazi fun, trooping the colour whilst high as a pigeon
I’ll bow to you when I’m sat on the throne, but for now, I’ll carry on with my own.