Forked Tongue


You and me are surrounded by Them

From every ‘ trustworthy source’

The despicable sit around long tables in their designer suits

conjuring up, witty slogans for the dupes

For the citizen,
A handful of coin

On his merry way to the Mall


Xmas carols in Berlin 


There her husband

There her son

Dying in the ice

On the banks of the Volga

In their millions left behind
Their Fuhrer ‘offer them up for the greater cause

The Six Army must fight to the last man

You need the dupe to go and fight your war
You need Puppet Officers, and peasant soldiers
You need a code of BS, and pseudo honor

Those not crushed by the tanks
Those not blown to hamburger
Those not starved to death
May find themselves marching to their captivity
And 20 000 die on the march

You ask me why I don’t vote?
You still think the wankers at the reunion may hold your hand

And I wonder if you r really as stupid as you sound?



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