I saw a newspaper picture from the political

campaign

A woman was kissing a child, who was obviously

in pain

She spills with compassion, as that young child's

face in her hands she grips

Can you imagine all that greed and avarice

coming down on that child's lips

Well I hope I don't die too soon

I pray the Lord my soul to save

Oh I'll be a good boy, I'm trying so hard to behave

Because there's one thing I know, I'd like to live

long enough to savour

That's when they finally put you in the ground

I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down



When England was the whore of the world

Margeret [sic] was her madam

And the future looked as bright and as clear as

the black tarmacadam

Well I hope that she sleeps well at night, isn't

haunted by every tiny detail

'Cos when she held that lovely face in her hands

all she thought of was betrayal



And now the cynical ones say that it all ends

the same in the long run

Try telling that to the desperate father who just

squeezed the life from his only son

And how it's only voices in your head and

dreams you never dreamt

Try telling him the subtle difference between

justice and contempt

Try telling me she isn't angry with this pitiful

discontent

When they flaunt it in your face as you line up

for punishment

And then expect you to say "Thank you"

straighten up, look proud and pleased

Because you've only got the symptoms, you

haven't got the whole disease

Just like a schoolboy, whose head's like a tin-can

filled up with dreams then poured down

the drain

Try telling that to the boys on both sides, being

blown to bits o