You’re drowning in the air, choking on hypocrisy,
And though many argue that that’s fair, it’s still sad to see,
You’ve spent so long shouting to hide your mediocrity,
And posturing and pouting about how you love democracy,
And telling us you’re a genius, despite evidence to the contrary,
And thriving in this atmosphere of toxic animosity,
Boasting of your weapons and their terminal velocity,
Leaving us mere seconds from some terminal atrocity,
You tell us, “Not to worry,” and that, “You’ve had what we had,”
I mean, only for a little while and, “It’s really not that bad,”
And if we go round wearing masks we really must be mad,
And the fact you still, “Don’t get it,” now you’ve got it’s oh so sad,
You don’t see the sadness you’ve brought down upon your people’s heads,
Your lack of caring leadership has stilled brave hearts in lonely beds,
And never once have you said sorry for the stupid things you said,
‘Cos you think piles of money tip the scales far more than piles of dead,
But now you’re stood there choking, drowning in the air,
It should be thought provoking, but you worry more about your hair,
But, “Rome,” lays charred and smoking, as it burns in bleak despair,
And you fiddle from the rooftops of, “The people’s house,” without a care.