There is something unsettled in the natural order
The order the religious said came from God
But now there is no God. This is a time of uprising
When the common man with his strength
The common woman with her beauty
Can rise against the old regime.
And the excesses feel more personal
As the old salesmen become workers
Manual workers, and good old family names
Ruined by the need to work, and their unsoiled hands
Are soiled by the actuality of work.
While the common man risks his life
And the common woman waits for news
Of whether her husband has been murdered
And the politicians try to build something
Out of the disasters of the past.
This was once a land of excesses
The extreme rich, their laughter echoing
Into the streets, where the extreme poor,
The homeless grew angry at their excesses.
And now the leader tries to build an empire
In this fragile nation which barely exists
That is coming under attack from the Good Old Guys
Who'll never have blood on their hands
And who never had blood on their hands.
The old empire attacks, and there is something else
A strange bed fellow, the old rich swine converse
With their new anti-elite Comrades
Because work is tough for the Bourgeoisie who never worked.
In this war zone things are changing, and the rich cannot cope
Their work brings exhaustion, why should the son trained to run Daddy's bank
The daughter brought up to shop where Mummy did be able to cope
With the hardships of work in a war zone?
As they are run down, and everywhere there is
A national starvation from lack of resources
A world wide death from widespread warfare
And nothing is as it was before.
And steadily the world is losing its religion
And in countries where Darwin and Nietzsche once lived
They have stopped believing what the Church tells them.
The church which lied to them, an old source of power
Is turning against them. And how terrible it must be
For those who got their income from religion.
And the 50 year old swine who ran the shops 20 years ago
Are in their seventies now and dying at an ever increasing rate.
Disease runs rampant now, there is nothing to stop it,
Though the politicians try to combat it
With work and sport, young boys are trying to exercise
To gain strength, but in this world corrupted by disease
There are always people dying.
One day, though, all this will be gone
The old rich will be rich again
They won't have to work
And Daddy's business will be working nicely,
Those smug nuevo riche will be controlled by dictatorships
And the new empire will be God given.
Because good is triumphant over the strong
And that is why there is more bacteria in the world
Than humans. And why the unsettled
Will become settled again.
Because when we leave the warzone
Something strange might start to happen
There might be less deaths when there are less bombs
There might be less suffering when sufferers are kept silent
A silent statistic doesn't matter, like a biblical figure does
But for now, the war zone keeps ticking, and the rich are tragically dying.
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