HO, to see the world in black and white,

And know who’s wrong, and who is right;

To find that voice, that you can trust,

And to know it well, with zeal and lust.

To pick your side, and to draw a line,

Across all the bloodied sands of time;

To know the truth, from amongst it all,

As any bird perched, fears not the fall.

To know you’re just, in deeds and words,

Is outside, ode to joy is sung by birds;

Go for now, indulge in a bigot’s wallow,

But soon the filth, find hard to shallow.

And when the hum of conscription comes,

Who’ll be the first, to mount the guns?

The sons of those, good workmen for hire,

You called fascists for opposing empire!

So when you win, and either way you shall,

Be quick to gloat, along your way to hell;

Know all slave empires, have burnt to dust

And all machines need but breathe to rust.

So loose their bull, into the lions den and see who’s sharpest, with sword and pen;

Blood will run thick, through lion’s milk,

Breathing new life, into people of ilk!

Rise, ye people of ilk!

– Thom Vurrister