Speak of heroes
You're swift to nominate them
Darling, be a sacrificial lamb
Poor boys fighting peasants in foreign lands
How loudly you praise them
Oh, but where were you then?
Off dancing with your debutante
Her skin is soft and warm, her eyes are cold and dead
It serves the greedy well to say men's hearts are dark
But I believe there'll be a light that shines
Which now is just a spark
No gods, no masters
No kings nor their court jesters
Bury the last
Sons of avarice
Go tell the teachers and nurses and soldiers
They must be lazy and/or dumb
While you, you earn a hundred to one
But don't you f**ing utter the word meritocracy
So what's our priority?
With people or markets being free?
I hear Sudan is a dusty place
And every day a few less black faces
It serves the greedy well to say men's hearts are dark
But I believe there'll be a light that shines
Which now is just a spark
No gods, no masters
No kings nor their court jesters
Bury the last
Sons of avarice