Brexit Chainstore Massacre

They're digging up the glory of a bygone age
National flagellation on the global stage
So tragi-comic I can't help but troll
The poor deluded souls

You're future is a car-crash down the road
Feel it getting closer as you lose control
You got no money? then you best be told
You better, you better, you better not grow old

And even in the knowledge that the air was filled
With fantasy and horror and the rancid bilge
Of men with nothing but contempt and scorn
For where the likes of you were born

That doesn't mean a thing, in fact it's safe to say
You secretly enjoy it, if you had your way
You'd let them herd you like the cattle you are
Into their abba - un - deux - tois

Well the future is a train-wreck down the line
Feel it getting closer but you're running outta time
You got no money? then you best be told
You better, you better, you better not grow old

Well at last, you're rich
Well at last, we're rich
But I'm afraid you'll never be rich
Well at last, we're so rich, rich, rich

Well at last, we're rich!
But I'm afraid you'll never ever be rich, no

'Cause it flows like water
Tastes like wine
Love your masters...
Day after day after after day
We'll close the borders
Keep the swine
Out forever
The fascist agenda is underway

For the Brexit Chainstore Massacre
Analytica
Well it's a massacre

Now you're future is a car-crash down the road
Feel it getting closer as you lose control
You got no money? then you best be told
You better, you better, you better not grow old