The Great Man

He is on his way

Upon this very day

They say, "he tried to do good"

But he should have worked in wood

Not try and defend the light

By death in the darkness of night

Fighting a war we cannot win

And all divided from within

For war and death will bring

No little birds to sing.

A kingdom of the poor

Where wisdom is no more

The self is all that counts

And wealth is an account

And only life is cheap

For death and crime we reap

Now people cry alone

In their own little homes

Divided from the fold

That was worth more than gold

He took out of our hands

This Anglo-Saxon land

And gave us so much more

This never-ending war

And the house may stand and cheer

For that great man standing there

But there, for every one to see

The politics of poverty.

And as for his legacy

It is the march of anarchy

Because he lost sight of truth and lied

We will fight until the day we die.

All the glory and all the fame

Of all those wars within his reign

Are now like whores full of shame

For how they curse the fool that came.

So many faces of the dead

Like little children gone to bed

So many things loved ones never said

All because of the lies we were fed

And now the great man as gone

Leaving behind a sad song

But will Liberty survive?

The liberals that divide.