Staying Free
BOY
Gentle Jesus meek and mild
Look upon a little child
God bless mummy and daddy
And even the baddy
And everyone else who happens to be
Good trusting people who want to stay free.
MAN
Holly Jesus, Beak and Titled
Why did you make me this bloody wild
I started out as you can see
With what my mummy promised me.
I prayed and prayed for all the good
That's in this world that I understood.
And I've tried and tried to do what you say
But all sorts of things seem to get in my way.
You are supposed to be
On top of the tree -
Like ?love thy neighbour
Do an honest day's labour.?
Like ? laws are a must
And his Lordship is just?
Like ? there's an example
Just look at his title.?
OLDER MAN
Now it's not all bad
And it seems to me
That we all should be glad
That we can be free
But on closer inspection
And some deeper thinking
There's too much deception
And we've started sinking.
So I've put pen to paper
To expose the odd caper
That destroys our volition
To pursue a good mission
I've taken the liberty
To come down on perfidy
And balanced this anguish
With a story of true bliss
Not that life is all roses
As one story proposes
Nor some people in positions
As bad as their missions.
Like the sparks of the flames
Of the fires of the conflagration
There are souls behind names
Of characters in my congregation
Be they friend or be they foe
It's only up to them to know
Whatever the public do perceive
Is as varied as whom they conceive.
With Dad's upon the gravy train
Few sons will wear the convict's chain
And footsteps are easier to follow
When to tread them promises tomorrow
And so we see the pattern grow
And tracks to institutions flow
With well connected prodigy
Who only ever have "to be"
And those in institutions know
That whatever benevolence they do bestow
They get the right to do the ranking
Of who gets what and who a spanking.
Provided rules are followed through
As Grandad said they ought to do
They will never have to question
If they are party to our indigestion.
And for institution be it read
That word means everything that's fed
By taxes, rates and monopolies
With the power to put us on our knees.
Much of what they do is worthy
And serves them well to hide the scurvy
Of those just there for the ride, at sea,
And taking out their spleen on you and me.
BACKBONE
We're looking for some backbone
Look at all the bastards scratching
Better get yourself a cell phone
And some fleas to do the itching
TAKEN IN
You'll find a bunch of older codgers
Took a shortcut, those artful dodgers
And steeped in heaps of great piety
Adopted the name of a stinging bee.
They do all their singing in various Lodges
Their stinging they keep for you and me.
They may look flaccid
But you'll need some acid
To take out the sting
When they do their thing.