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Friends hear me well, I have not long to speak,
I bear a message for the duped, the trodden upon, the weak,
I have walked through the ichor of subterfuge and greed,
Meant to mollify the massesâ national identity,
A once proud and independent people now lie in shackles,
And the Sunday bells no longer toll within,
Where the elders lead in sanctimonious sin,
Theyâre cominâ in, hit the deck!
The grip upon your neck is a comfort, it tells us when to breathe,
And toe-to-toe to the death,
Weâll fight for what is left, the scraps the bosses leave,
But here we go, hear the song,
Indelible and strong, as one, we struggle to our knees,
And through the roar and the din, weâll prove that we are men,
As our sons and daughters bleed
Donât need your sharp mind or strong back, our very lives are forfeit,
But can you still call yourself a victim when youâre so complicit,
As we wallow hedonistic, complacently abused,
Where are the bootstraps our forefathers used,
Self-reliance and integrity are notions antiquated