From the Dumb Majority
From the Dumb Majority.
Gifted others will tell the nation, And annotate the slippery
specifics, Of the lying, deceit and fabrication, Half hidden in
statistical hieroglyphics, The stark fact is that here instead
Of it being hard to find the faults, They are incessantly
raising their heads, Those not tucked away in time vaults, No,
it is not purely and simply lies, Or the incompetence that has
occurred, It is more the assumption we are dumb, And simple, too
brainless for words,
We will tell them some glib fairy tale, That would not even fool
a troll, And dress it all up, have it regale, Like some
burlesque talking doll, And they will swallow it all in, For
they are gullible and easy led, They will surely quickly fall
in, And take the bait that we have fed, And so it eventually
came to pass, That they deemed us so enthralled, So overcome by
their Quatermass, That they could tell us anything at all.
But now surprise, we hear your lies, But now shock, we see your
face, We can feel the deceit materialise, And smell the policies
put in place, And the odour is unpleasant, The sight is quite
grotesque, They are ruining the present, Making the future
Kafkaesque, For lo, we see, we hear, we smell, We touch, and yes
we taste, But amazingly we think as well, And perceive we
believed in haste, We trusted those who should be truthful,
Accepted their promises and explanations, Gave benefit of doubt
when they were youthful, And forgave their strange aberrations,
Now we find this trust misplaced, What we believed in was a
sham, Not honourable but two faced, Not a planned future but a
scam, Who is looking more stupid now, That the dominoes have
started, We will soon show them how, Their lessons have been
imparted, For we are not devoid of intellect, We just wanted to
believe their schemes, We wanted to trust those we elect, Wanted
to share in their dreams, We are not imbeciles to be fed spin,
When buried bodies rematerialise, We all know when we see sins,
We all know when we hear lies, We all know that waste is waste,
Know borrowing has a payback day, Know now that lying bare
faced, Is the theme of His third way, Know being paid for canal
watching, Whilst manufacturing out sources and dies, Is just
another means of botching, Another affront to our eyes, We all
know credit at the core, Is a sure way to debt and sorrow, Yet
we applaud a chancellor, Who is over hocked to tomorrow, Who
under borrows year on year, And fills the hole with more loans,
Come next year he will have no fear, But we will lose our homes,
For funding his economy on tick, In a headlong lemming surge, He
is counting on this trick, He is feeding on this urge, When we
come to pay this back, Will he be there to lend a hand, Or will
he be borrowing in the outback, Whilst we struggle on in our own
land.
We have waited long in patience, Hoping against hope they are
cool, But it has turned to pure impatience, When they treat us
as if fools, And take our seeming calm compliance, As if a
tacit, if dumb, approval, When it is a menacing angry quiet,
Merely awaiting their removal.
It is criminal to deliberately lie, To those who trusted you
their future, To take away their blue skies, To leave a wound
without a suture, To paint a glorious valhalla sunset, After an
epic adventure so exciting, To promise that we will all get,
Whatever we would take delight in, To prey even on our very
dreams, And whisper they can be fulfilled, Telling us to trust
in what it seems, To partake in what is billed, And weave a
talismanic illusion, Wrapped in candy floss by elves, Which has
now slipped into confusion, As we slowly realised ourselves,
That the reality is as it always was, But while we were in there
dreaming, He was trying to make Himself a God, He was lying and
He was scheming, Thankfully now we are awakening, Whilst He is
into disintegration, We will have to try to rebuild, What He has
left us of our nation, The cruelty is in the fostering, Of a
future in a golden land, He has ruined via his posturing, He has
trampled on our plans He had promised us Houdini like, A
miraculous escape from strife, But after the great illusionist,
Life here is still life.