Ode to Britannia
So what are ya?
Right wing shitface
Always so concerned with race
Smarter than the others and he knows it
What are ya, then, are ya?
Left leaning, just a bit
You dirty fucking communist
Get real, it's never worked
You know that you're gonna outgrow it
Central, nuanced
Not clouded with influence
Educated, indecisive
Bystander, left, right
Far right, far left
Nurtured in the same nest
Both fucking meet in the middle
Karl Marx, Keynes, Smith
Couldn't ever say shit
Instinct Tory, heart labour, head liberal
I take my land, I made my land, and I'm sure
There's nothing great about Britain anymore
If you're so good at fucking learning
When you learn about your past
Find that we haven't quite escaped the immortality
Of the ruling class
I'm sure that you're bored
And when you are so
Tell me, where does your mind go?
Energy companies profit in crisis
Medical companies profit in crisis
Reckon your government profits in crisis?
Is it so easy to profit in crisis?
I took a look at your history
Many a book, many a century
Murder and killing
More murder conspiracy
Year by year by year
Nothing is different
So backwards, how you gonna sort it?
Run away then you come back crawling
Make a plan then you're the tyrant
You had freedom? Somebody bought it
I swore that I would set out to do something
I came back with nothing
No, I could do nothing
There's nothing much good and that is fine
I don't fucking care what it used to be like
I take my land, I made my land, and I'm sure
There's nothing great about Britain anymore
I take my land, I made my land, and I'm sure
There's nothing great about Britain anymore
When words against the system are dismissed as complaints
Then complaint has no value
Words have no place
Regenerate your leaders with a copy and paste
Don't argue that it trickles down
Say it to their face
When privilege determines potential, who are you?
Most politicians went to the same three schools
Money, drugs, and Hollywood
The idea that maybe you could
Move away and start a new
That people would ever help you
I care a lot, that's all I've got
I wouldn't let my people rot
Hope
Smart blokes on the news
Ten ways the world fucking lies to you
When every complaint is rejected as anarchic
Every word against the system gets your blood fucking pumping
Complaints will forever be ineffective
And words mean nothing
Right wing shitface
Always so concerned with race
Smarter than the others and he knows it
What are ya, then, are ya?
Left leaning, just a bit
You dirty fucking communist
Get real, it's never worked
You know that you're gonna outgrow it
Central, nuanced
Not clouded with influence
Educated, indecisive
Bystander, left, right
Far right, far left
Nurtured in the same nest
Both fucking meet in the middle
Karl Marx, Keynes, Smith
Couldn't ever say shit
Instinct Tory, heart labour, head liberal
I take my land, I made my land, and I'm sure
There's nothing great about Britain anymore
If you're so good at fucking learning
When you learn about your past
Find that we haven't quite escaped the immortality
Of the ruling class
I'm sure that you're bored
And when you are so
Tell me, where does your mind go?
Energy companies profit in crisis
Medical companies profit in crisis
Reckon your government profits in crisis?
Is it so easy to profit in crisis?
I took a look at your history
Many a book, many a century
Murder and killing
More murder conspiracy
Year by year by year
Nothing is different
So backwards, how you gonna sort it?
Run away then you come back crawling
Make a plan then you're the tyrant
You had freedom? Somebody bought it
I swore that I would set out to do something
I came back with nothing
No, I could do nothing
There's nothing much good and that is fine
I don't fucking care what it used to be like
I take my land, I made my land, and I'm sure
There's nothing great about Britain anymore
I take my land, I made my land, and I'm sure
There's nothing great about Britain anymore
When words against the system are dismissed as complaints
Then complaint has no value
Words have no place
Regenerate your leaders with a copy and paste
Don't argue that it trickles down
Say it to their face
When privilege determines potential, who are you?
Most politicians went to the same three schools
Money, drugs, and Hollywood
The idea that maybe you could
Move away and start a new
That people would ever help you
I care a lot, that's all I've got
I wouldn't let my people rot
Hope
Smart blokes on the news
Ten ways the world fucking lies to you
When every complaint is rejected as anarchic
Every word against the system gets your blood fucking pumping
Complaints will forever be ineffective
And words mean nothing
Credits
Writer(s): Sebastian Lowe
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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