You may well think our leaders clowns,
For sure they let the people down.
It matters not where you come from,
If your name's Boris, Jacob or Dom.

Unless you're in the Upper Class,
Workers will stay upon their ass.
It matters more where they went to school.
Eaton and Oxford were so cool.

They had a grand old party time,
That's why they pull the Party line.
They laugh and tell us what to do,
Won't listen to the likes of You.

We vote and think our votes will count,
Lead us to what we think we want,
We praise them for the little they give,
They hide away the way they live.

And when they want to fight a war,
They ask all all to give some more.
They sail their yachts and ride their horses,
They play with their balls on their golf courses.

They drink their champers and fine wines,
They eat their gourmet meals so fine,
Put chemicals in our food and water,
Send our soldiers out for slaughter.

Yet deep inside we’re all the same,
It matters not your family name,
For when we reach the end of life,
It’s them that will suffer the grief and strife.

For then they’ll see themselves were bad,
For then it’s them in loneliness that will feel sad,
It’s them that did us all that bad,
For them that last breath will be so sad.

For one thing to them I’d like to teach,
That in this life we each need peace.
It’s not in glory, wealth or fame.
It’s only in our Soul’s true name.