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.