the times are bleak
the Greeks are bankrupt
the morals, meek.
We work for nothing
stack shelves at night.
In darkness manifests
a pauper's plight.
Little has changed
from before the wheel
those who haven't
stay at heal.
Though light emerges
from time to time
a glimmer of freedom
recognition of crimes...
The streets become ballots
the police, our boxes
posting our 'votes'
but freedom that foxes.
Rioters we're called
we're carted away.
'Enemies of justice'
that's what they'll say
In Islamic springtime
there's hope and joy.
Fair elections?
Don't be so coy
We've bombed for that banner
killed thousands at will
'For democracy boys!
Shoot to kill!'
Yet we just make new markets
in need of new stackers
to fill their shelves
make money, leave tatters.
Cause we're slaves us lot
we have no choice
we surrender our dignity
for an illusory voice.
Just remember, work hard
and your conscience is clear
we're in it together
this business my dears....
